Trip the Darkness
by Lord Amaranth
Summary: When Layleth Mac Tir is chosen to become one of the storied Grey Wardens, she's thrown into a dangerous political game involving her father, her sister, and the man she loves. With a Blight breathing down everyone's neck, Ferelden's fate will be decided.
1. Chapter I

_Opening Authors Notes: I'd like to start off by saying I'm sorry for the long-winded Authors Notes, no other chapter will have this long. This a newer idea that I just fell in love with and decided to run with it. I'm not sure what it could be classified as, maybe AU, but I don't really know, so I just won't classify it as anything!  
>This story is written in the First Person Perspective style of writing, and the chapters could be considered 'vignettes' or 'snapshots' as I normally write much longer chapters on chapter'd stories.<em>

_Apologies in advance for any grammatical, punctuation or spelling errors, since I'm currently without a beta, it's just me and I do try to catch everything I can._

_I don't own Dragon Age, or any associated media that deals with it. I just own Layleth and a bag of Doritos here by my side.  
><em>

_Without further adieu, I give you,_ Trip the Darkness.

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><p>"Why can't you just be happy for me?" I complained, following my father closely; as he wove about the soldier's camp. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to hit him so hard I knocked him to the ground. It was impossible to me that he could be so cold, so…unfair about this! This was important to me! Was I being bratty, or a pain in the ass? Perhaps, but he was proud of Anora on her big day, here's mine and he couldn't care less.<p>

"Enough, Layleth…" My father, the lauded Loghain Mac Tir; stopped suddenly and whirled on me, his eyes burning with anger at my insolence.

I stared my father down. "Why can't you just say you're proud of me? I'm going to be a _Warden _for Maker's sake! Don't you know what kind of honor for me that is? All I've ever done was try and make you proud…"

I could see him visibly clench his teeth behind his façade of calm and controlled anger. He was going to blow up at me any second now. I always had pushed him to his limits parent-wise.  
>"The Wardens are useless and outdated, we don't need them! And yet, Duncan thinks you are just so <em>well suited<em> to the position! Haven't you ever noticed how the stories your mother told you never ended with the Warden's dying of old age!" He roared and took several steps towards me, to which I held my ground. Even with him seething with anger, I could see the slight twinkle of pride in his features that I wasn't going to back down. That he had taught me to never back down: and I certainly wasn't. I wanted my damned congratulations.

"You'd be proud if it was Anora!" I regretted the words the second they left my mouth, as it struck my father across the face like a slap. "I mean…well…" I stumbled, biting my lip. It was the only thing I could bite, as my fingernails were protected by my leather gloves. Yes, I know, it's a horrible habit.

"You mean you're sorry?" He asked, suddenly he wasn't in my face anymore, and was standing a bit farther away, towards the entrance to his tent. I realized with no small degree of embarrassment that our argument had taken us through the entire camp. When I had first arrived here with Duncan after days of travel from Gwaren, I ran off to tell my father the good news: that I had been chosen to be a Grey Warden! That Duncan had been in Gwaren and looking for recruits, and he saw me at the Tourney held for him to judge willing volunteers, he said I was skilled. It was only later when we got in a bar-fight and him and I stood back to back brandishing chairs that he decided that I just had to be one.

I realized this too late apparently though, as I just cost him face with his men no doubt. Shit…

Father sighed, and turned to the entrance of his tent. "I am proud of you both, Layleth. Of Anora and of you; but you can't ask me to be happy that you're going to be…one of them." And with that, he stepped inside his tent. Blowing a stream of air out from between my lips, I stood there, debating whether or not to continue trying to strong-arm him into telling me he was glad. Somehow, I knew I would get farther trying to kick the door down to the Black City itself and screaming, 'On the floor, assholes!'.

I heard a voice from behind me sound. "I trust that you're done speaking with your father…"

"Apparently so, Duncan." I turned to my now superior, standing maybe ten feet back from me, hands calmly folded behind his back. I wondered somewhat at what he had heard. I sincerely hoped that it wasn't anything bad, Maker knows my father has a booming voice, and the last thing I need is for Duncan to hear my father refer to him as something other than human.

"Go see Alistair: he's over on the other side of the camp, once you find him; bring him over to me, and we'll begin the process of making you a Warden." I nodded quickly, biting my instant barrage of questions back before they could come spurting out: didn't want to annoy the head Warden in Ferelden.

It was often rather strange dealing with Duncan, he was often quick and brisk and all business, but behind his eyes, there dwelled an enormous capacity for stupid humor and slapstick situations. It was comforting to know that he was able to relax, so unlike my superiors at the War College, but on the other side of the coin, I had to wonder when he was joking and when he was serious. Now, I could see was serious.

"Duncan – may I ask why this…initiation is so secret?" I didn't think it was a particularly out-of-place question. I was to be a Warden anyway, why couldn't I know? Seriousness aside, I think it was a rather good, intuitive question.

"Layleth…go fetch Alistair…" He inclined his head slightly, and gave me this look. It reminded me too much of the look that my father would give me when I was young and would ask too many questions about politics, or swordplay, or why Arl Howe was such a creep.

I nodded stiffly. "Where is he?"

"Over near the Mage's side of the camp, last I saw him. He'll be the only one not in Templar plate or mage robes, I'm sure."

I hadn't been, or even seen that side of the camp, and walking over, I realized just how many people were actually here, and how many people looked past hope. They were battening down the hatches.  
>How many people truly believed we could win this war?<p>

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><p>I liked Alistair from the moment I saw him, mostly because he was giving sass to a Mage, which I thought almost everyone should do at least once in their life. Not that I'm a mage hater, it's just that my nanny was one, and she was a real bitch.<p>

Biased? You bet your ass.

The mage brushed past me, completely indignant to myself or my title, not that I was going to go flashing the 'Teryn's daughter' card, that was too much of an 'Anora' thing to do, and one of her was more than enough. However, I almost liked this small show of anonymity, Duncan had told me on the trip between Gwaren and Ostagar that Wardens gave up their titles, their names. I would just be Layleth.

That was a strangely comforting idea.

Alistair caught sight of me, standing by the ramp of the ruined tower.

When he turned fully to face me, I saw more of him, and noticed first and foremost that he was quite a bit taller than I was. Sighing inwardly at my less than impressive height, I started up the ramp.

"Oh hi! Sorry, sorry!" He called, walking over to meet me, "Sorry about all that, mages tend to hate me on sight, you aren't a mage…right?" I chuckled slightly, nodding my head no.  
>"And what if I was, would that dampen your whole day?" I joked, turning slightly.<p>

He smiled at me, like he was happy to find another person with an actual sense of humor. "No, not really, maybe a little sprinkle, but not enough to dampen."

"Right, well…Duncan wanted me to fetch you." I nodded matter-of-factly.

He looked surprised and then suddenly, understanding flooded his features. "Oh right, you're the new recruit aren't you! Nice to meet you! When I heard we were getting another recruit, and that…Duncan had recruited you during a _bar-fight_, I had just assumed you'd be a man."

"What, you don't think I can't swing a bar-stool around like a barbarian? You've got another thing coming." Was I laying it on a bit thick? Perhaps, normally I wasn't so…peppy, but he seemed to be and I wanted him to like me. It wouldn't do to join the order and find out that people thought I was a stick in the mud.

"I hold no delusions, my lady. Now please, allow me an actual introduction, I'm Alistair."

"Layleth." I smiled and nodded somewhat. I felt the tug to do a curtsy, like I always had too back in Gwaren when someone asked my name, but I squashed the force-of-habit. Just Layleth now, just Layleth.

"No last name?" Did I want him to know I was a Mac Tir? It was a rather nice change not to be lauded about as the daughter of a Teryn. It had always made me feel uneasy, to have people waiting on me, to have people who wanted to say they shook hands with me. For the longest time, since I had been 'launched on society' as Mother put it, I never really took to it. Anora did of course, but she was…well…Anora would be Anora. Father used to say I was too much like him, hard-work and the sweat of the brow mattered to me, not the pretty dresses and perfumes that mattered to Anora, I should've been a farm-girl, Anora and I both should've been.

"It doesn't matter, Alistair. So…can you fight?" I made of show of looking him up and down like my old drill-inspector at my War College. I would know this look, I was given it often. 'What do you mean you think you can fight, you're less than 6 feet tall!' Three broken bones later in sparring practice proved my unspoken point.

"As good as any Templar can, maybe a bit better, who's to say? What about you?"

"With actual weapons or a barstool?" He gave a throaty laugh. "Either or, it doesn't matter." I shrugged somewhat, "I'm good with dual-wielding daggers and single sword combat. And surprisingly, I can actually use a warhammer to good effect, but when I was being trained, I was told that warhammers are not a 'lady's' weapon, and so, I was banned from using them. I think mostly people were just wary of having their heads knocked off." He nodded somewhat, a dashing smile gracing his features.

"Well, we better go see Duncan, he'll worry like a mother hen if we don't show up soon, I'm sure." He winked and started off past me. I kept step with him, "I look forward to working with you, Templar, assuming you can use that sword." I elbowed his hip slightly, avoiding the grip of his blade. He just chuckled and shook his head somewhat, "I…hope you make it, Layleth."

This stopped me for a second and I cocked my head slightly. What was that supposed to mean?

"It's just an initiation ritual, Alistair. I'm sure I'll be fine." I chuckled humorlessly, suddenly wary of what I was about to face. He turned back to me…and nodded somewhat. I swear, for just a second, he looked almost…sad.


	2. Chapter II

_Dragon Age and all associated revenues belong to Bioware._

__Also, thanks to everyone who favorites or alerted this story! And big thanks to my one solitary reviewer, you rock!

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><p>Alistair had tried to warn me of the horror of the Darkspawn, about how vicious they were in battle, about how I needed to be prepared if I wanted to survive a confrontation with them. I now think I understand why he said 'he hoped I would make it'.<br>The first one we saw, was actually running away from us, it had seen us approach, and it fled away to warn its brethren, and suddenly, just like that, we had at least 6 Darkspawn upon us, hissing and howling, swinging their jagged, rusted weapons.

I thought I knew something of combat, I thought I had seen everything; that I had fought the most underhanded and despicable creatures there were. But I wasn't prepared for my first match with a…Hurlock? I think that's what Alistair called the abortion.

I survived though, and it didn't, and I wasn't terribly injured. Only a gash along the inner edge of my forearm, shallow, but long. I hadn't been prepared for how strong the Hurlock was, and when I blocked its first strike directly, instead of skipping the blade away from me and getting out of striking range. Suddenly, I was in a contest of strength with a monster that had the muscles to rip my head from my shoulders. My left arm had given out under the force, especially once he leveraged me up against a tree, the tip of his blade grazing through the flesh of my arm.

I was able to stab him in the neck with my other blade, between the plates of his crude armor. But I had learned the lesson.

They weren't to be underestimated.

The fighting didn't stop there; we had to fight more and more Darkspawn as we ascended a nearby hill, up to the Warden outpost.  
><em>Three vials of blood and the Grey Warden treaties<em>. Duncan had ordered us to find, Alistair and I and two others. Daveth, a roguish fellow from Denerim: and Rory, a knight from Redcliffe. Rory was a coward, but like a hound, when backed into a corner, he fought harder than anyone else could have anticipated. Daveth was little better, but at least he stayed out of the way, and used his bow instead of his blades. He'll last longer that way.

I scrunched my nose as I pressed the flat of my blade into the torn throat of a Darkspawn, causing just enough blood to trickle out to fill a vial, "Last one! All we need are the treaties!" I announced from my crouched position. The rest of the boys had headed up into the ruined tower to poke about, searching for these damnable treaties. These things better promise us an army for all the trouble their causing us.

Collecting my things, I dropped the vial into my pack, and made my way over to them to see Alistair sitting on a nearby stone, rubbing his temples slowly. Rory was leaning against a ruined wall and Daveth was poking through a broken apart chest.

"Please don't tell me that was where the treaties were supposed to be…" Alistair looked up at me and mutely nodded his head, his eyes displaying a 'Why now, why me' sort of look. I sighed somewhat in annoyance. Nothing was ever simple.

"Did you happen to see anything on any of the Darkspawn corpses?" Daveth spoke up, standing up and away from the chest, his hands in the air.

I replied, "No, I'm sorry."

"That's it then, we'll just have to tell Duncan they weren't where they were supposed to be; he can't get angry at us for that can he?" Rory stepped forward, looking at Alistair. "No, Rory, we need to find the treaties. That's the point. I'm just trying to think where they could be…" I smiled somewhat at Alistair's gentle reproach.

"If we go back without the treaties, it tells Duncan that we give up when met with the smallest amount of opposition. And when you think about it, it would sound ridiculous. 'Yeah, we just killed a platoon of Darkspawn for some treaties, but they weren't there, so we packed up and came home.' What type of message does that send, Rory?" I tried to help reiterate Alistair's point, and he nodded somewhat in agreement.

"Perhaps I know where these treaties are!" Daggers suddenly in my hands, I dropped the knapsack from my shoulders, preparing for a fight, everyone did the same, but I saw no one, nothing to which the voice belonged.

"Well, well, well…what do we have here? Three boys, playing at being warriors, and a woman, clearly more dangerous and potent than the men around her…" I smirked at the compliment, but didn't drop my guard. She had been watching us then; watching our progress, and it was a she, the voice distinctly female, accented with something, but it was an accent I had never heard.

Rory roared, "Show yourself!" I had to stifle a laugh, the first time he's actually shown any backbone whatsoever. Why did Duncan want him? Did the Wardens have placeholders? A mascot?

"I do not answer to the demands of intruding men, ask politely and perhaps, foolish boy." The voice admonished Rory, who colored somewhat. Oh for Maker's sake, this was getting ridiculous.  
>"Would you please come out? I promise to keep Rory from trying to chop your head off." I sighed, twirling my daggers so the blades rested against my wrists, it was a far less threatening position, or at least it looked it.<p>

A dark-robed woman stepped out from atop one of the ruins, each step light and graceful. A mage's staff was clutched in her hand, her golden eyes watching Alistair like a hawk might watch a mouse. Ahh, a Mage meets a Templar in some freezing woods…

Sounds like the setup to horrible joke…or a deadly confrontation…

"Don't trust her, she looks Chasind…" Alistair growled; his shield ready at his side, his blade unsheathed.  
>"She looks more like a witch…" Daveth intoned backing up slightly, an arrow resting against the curve of his bow.<p>

"Witches, Chasind? What? Do you fear that I'll snap my fingers and barbarians will swoop down upon you?" The woman laughed; a shimmery sound that seemed pleasant to the ear. While the rest of the boys may be rather jumpy, I actually liked this woman. Despite the fact she was a damned mage.

Man, that bitch of a nanny has really soured me…

"Yes – swooping…is _bad_."

"Oh Alistair, shut up. Look, I'm sorry, we're all tired and injured, we've been fighting Darkspawn for a good amount of the day, and the treaties that were s_upposed _to be here – have apparently vanished. Would you have any idea as to where those treaties might be?" I asked in my best friendly, polite tone I could muster up at that moment.

"Yes, please…just tell us where they are." I wanted to smack Alistair upside the head.  
><em>Be quiet! I'm handling this! <em>

"I will not, for 'twas not I who removed your precious treaties, Templar…" The dark haired woman chided Alistair, her strange eyes flashing.  
>"Okay! Let's start over, before she decides to <em>roast <em>us, Alistair." I directed that barb at him, "Hello there, I'm Layleth, a Grey Warden recruit, these fine men are Daveth, Rory and Alistair, and what may we call you?" The woman looked at me, smiling slightly, like she understood where I was at with apparently being the only one with any sense of diplomacy whatsoever.

"You know, I think I like you. You may call me Morrigan, and to answer your earlier question, yes I do know who took your treaties, 'twas my mother of all people, she is _protecting _them, as is her prerogative." She answered, far more agreeable to me than she was too Alistair.

"Can you take us to your mother so we may retrieve our documents?"

Morrigan nodded, leaping down gracefully from her ruinous perch. "Follow me, if it pleases you." And with that, we left the achingly cold woods.

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><p>Morrigan's mother was a strange woman, who spoke in riddles and rhymes, but she gave us the treaties nonetheless and Duncan was happy with our progress when we returned to him at Ostagar. He seemed relieved to have them back in his presence.<p>

"Alistair, get them all something to eat and then take them all to the old temple, we'll prepare the Joining there. May you all come out unscathed." I didn't like the word 'Joining', the way he said it, capital letters and all, like it was some unbearable curse, but the thought of food made my stomach rumble, it had been a day and a half since I had actually had a meal. I stayed next to Alistair while the four of us made our way over to the tents and cooking fires.

"You know, you could've backed me up back there with the witch…" He said idly, looking down at my bandaged arm out of the corner of his eye.  
>"And you could've used just a touch of diplomacy. We were in her playing field; Maker knows she could've had a <em>High Dragon<em> backing _her _up…first rule of war…avoid it if you can." Alistair didn't say anything for a moment, and I went back to picking and readjusting the bandage Morrigan's mother had given me for my arm-wound. She put some sort of salve on it, it itched something fierce.

Glancing up at Alistair, I found him glancing back and he gave me a small smile and short nod.

We found a cooking fire that hadn't been taken over by soldiers, and we all plopped down around it, except for Alistair.  
>"I'll head over to food-stores, what does everyone want, and we'll cook it over here."<p>

Daveth exclaimed, "Meat! Lots of meat, Alistair! Bacon…" I scrunched my nose up at the thought, it wasn't that I didn't eat meat, it was that at the War College, we actually ate very little of it, and when we did have it, it was lean cut and full of protein…not…_bacon_.

We all learned rather quickly that night, that if we all survived whatever this 'Joining' thing was, to never, ever, ever, let Alistair anywhere near a cooking fire, ever again. Now, I'm not saying I'm some prolific chef, but really? How can you screw up fried _bread_? It was basic farm food! Bacon, eggs, a sliced, fried tomato and some fried bread, a farmhouse breakfast, how could you possibly muck up _bread_?

"Well, we better head over to the area Duncan wants to use for the Joining, it's time." Alistair mentioned around the last mouthful of egg, that Rory had so lovingly taken over cooking when they began to look g_ray _under Alistair's attentions. I tore my thick-cut slice of bacon in two and shoved them in my mouth, chewing quickly and washing it down with a drag of mead.

Daveth laughed, "At least you aren't one of those dainty women, who only eats pastries…" I shook my head, chuckling and finishing off the last of my mead.

"Do I look Orlesian to you?" I admonished, kicking his shin lightly. "Of course not, Layleth…Qunari…well, now that's another sto…" He didn't get to finish his comment as my empty bottle went flying towards his head.

"Everyone…" We all fell quiet at the sound of Duncan's voice, I had to turn around slightly to see him; he was standing as he always was, with his arms neatly folded behind his back. He was looking at us like this was the last time he might see some of us.

Though we hadn't been explicitly told this was the case: Rory, Daveth and I came to the unanimous agreement that the Joining was something that you may not survive, but we hadn't put much stock in it till now, I think. We were all too busy just trying to survive the Darkspawn and that nutty old bat that lived with Morrigan.

"It's time we begin, please follow me." Duncan turned and began to leave, and without another word or glance between us, we all stood and started to follow him.


	3. Chapter III

_Dragon Age and all its associated revenues belong to Bioware._

__Again, a huge massive thanks to everyone who favorited, alerted and reviewed this story, it's very inspiring!

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><p>The pain was worse than anything I could ever have imagined; searing, screaming, bloodcurdling…I couldn't call it pain because that word didn't do it justice. It was like my veins had literally been set on fire, like the worst type of blood-magic, amplified by the Maker himself in his anger. Flashes of Daveth's screaming face rush in and out of my mind, his eyes clouded over, milky and blind. He wasn't screaming; it couldn't be called that, it was like his very voice was trying to rip itself out of him, to get away from the pain, or whatever that agonizing force was.<p>

Duncan said even he couldn't imagine the horror that Daveth saw from behind those milky eyes, Rory's courage gave, just as I knew it would, but I had never expected Duncan to knife him, right then and there. I was paralyzed with fear, rooted to the spot. Alistair numbly placed the chalice in my hands, and it was like…either wait to be burned alive in your home, or jump out the window and break every bone in your body…

_There was no swimming, no just being okay anymore. I was either on the shore, or drowning in the sea…_

I raised the chalice to my lips, and I remember nothing more.

Wearily, I forced my eyes open, focusing my sight on anything that…that wasn't…what…what was that thing?

The sweetest voice cried in my ear, singing, heavenly strains that touched the stars with their heartrendingly lush crescendos. I wished I had listened to my father, that I could tell him he was right and I was wrong, and that I was sorry, and that I needed him to hug me again like he did when I was a child. I shouldn't have done this…

I even wanted Anora – to tell me everything was okay, to make me a mug of coffee and sit with me in the kitchen, listening to me recount my nightmares, paying actual attention like only a big sister could. I wanted mother more than anything else.

I _should not _have done this, but…in truth, was there a choice? From the second I agreed to enter the Tourney, I had made my choice, that I was ready for this. Whether by choice or the rite of conscription, I was damned.

Someone shook me by my shoulders, but I couldn't see who, I couldn't see anything even though my eyes were wide open, I saw only the Beast, the looming great Dragon, sitting like the Maker himself upon a throne in the Fade, a throne made of the bones of wailing children, the bleating of murdered infants, the cries of raped mothers, the screams of tortured fathers. The song was physical, made out of all their heavenly voices, crying in agony, producing the most beautiful sound my ears had ever heard.

But how? And why? Why was the screaming of a woman, clawing against chains that nothing could break to get to her tortured children beautiful? Why did this song…why? Just…_why_?

It was like I could see the notes in front of me…

"Layleth! Layleth!" A voice cut through the notes, cut through the sound and pushed the Beast away from me, his roar sounding like the sweetest symphony, played upon the finest instrument in the world by the Thedas' most premiere violinist the land has ever known.

I wanted to listen, to hear more.

_Stop it, stop it! LET ME HEAR IT! _

Arms where holding me, I struggled against those corporeal bindings, trying to claw my way free, to follow the song, I wanted to dance to it, to dance with the Dragon, the arms grew tighter. I screamed, anger coursing through me.

_Couldn't they hear it? Can't they see the notes, they're so beautiful. I don't want that body, I don't care. Stop it, stop it! LET ME HEAR THE SONG!_

A sharp pain blossomed across my face, sharp enough to ruin my desire, sharp enough for me to see the Beast for what it was. It was like falling back into my body…

I suddenly had limbs again, and I used them, lashing out I pushed myself away from anything and anyone, trying in vain to scramble away from the arms that held me tightly to something solid, something covered in armor.

"Maker, Duncan, did you have to slap her?" A voice asked, close to my ear, I slowed my struggles as my faculties returned to me. The Joining…

The Maker-damned _Joining_…

"She's returning to us, Alistair…at least one made it through…" I tilted my head slightly at that, and pulled my eyes up to stare at the Rivaini looking down at me, relief in his eyes.  
>I tried to mumble, but my words were incoherent.<p>

"What was that?" Alistair asked from behind me, his arms loosening, allowing me to pull away somewhat to collect myself.  
>I tried again, in earnest; "What…the hell…was that?" My breathing was labored, and in the back of my mind, I could still hear that damned song, those piercingly clear notes, beautiful yet sinister. But I didn't care, it was too…perfect. The sighing, the screaming, the bleeding, the dying! It was too beautiful!<p>

"Layleth, block the Song out…" I heard the capital letters in Duncan's statement, and I peered up at him, tilting my head to the side like a confused Mabari. I wonder if Daveth ever got those herbs to the kennel master…  
>But why should that matter? He can't hear the song, but maybe he can! He's dead! He's…with the Beast! I want to be dead…<p>

But I needed my coherency, and my stubbornness overrode my need for the music, with a struggle; I nodded weakly to him, trying to show that I heard him over the Song, "Why is it…so beautiful?"

"Because the Archdemon is trying to seduce you, Layleth, don't let it." It was Alistair again, I blearily shifted my head towards him, and nodded, swallowing thickly, doing my best to push the Song from my mind. I was no one's slave, but…I closed my eyes, just remembering the fragments of the sound was enough for now, I supposed.

"You are now one of us, Layleth; you survived while the others did not. Now – when you've had a chance to…acclimate: come down to the King's tent, he wishes to have you and me there, Alistair…you have leave to do what you will." I thought this was strange, Alistair wasn't invited? Why? He was just as much a Warden as I? But perhaps the only reason I'm invited is because I haven't gotten to see my brother-in-law in quite some time.

Cailan would want someone who he really knew there. And he never saw eye to eye with father…

"Of course, Duncan; but are you going to be alright, Layleth?" The last bit was directed at me and I glanced at him as he stood up. Picking my own ass up off the floor, I nodded again, unwilling to speak lest my concentration on blocking out the Song leave me.

Once Alistair had left, I looked to Duncan.

"Another time, perhaps, Layleth." He answered my unspoken question. "I don't think it's very fair…"

"You don't have too, my dear."

"Well, what am I to wear, my armor is…well." I looked down at myself. It wasn't that I was in rags; I wore chainmail, with a layer of black-leather over it, form-fitting and easy to move around in, and warm enough to keep out the cold blowing in from the mountains to the west. It was just my armor hadn't been properly cleaned since before I got here at Ostagar, and while I didn't have Darkspawn blood clinging to me, I'm sure I smelt like a Dwarf's armpit.

"It'll have to do for now, while we were enacting the Joining, the King's scouts reported the main Horde is marching on us, it'll be within siege distance in less than one hour, we're deploying the troops and preparing for battle." This was a new side to Duncan, the strong warrior…the leader. I'm sure it's not really _new_, it's just new to me.

"And if that Beast appears, the Archdemon?"

"We'll discuss this later, we need to get to the King," And with that, Duncan started off, leaving me there, still struggling. Why couldn't we just…_listen_?

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><p><em>Authors Notes Appended: <em>In the game, and in the book _The Calling_, several references to 'The Song' are made, to me, this is also how the Darkspawn sense the Grey Wardens possess works, 'The Song' is part of it. In the lore and game, it never explicitly states how the 'sixth sense' really works beyond allowing them to sense the Darkspawn and allowing the Darkspawn to sense them in return, so for the purposes of fiction, I'm linking it all together to this 'Song'.  
>All my information beyond what is played in the game comes from <span>The Dragon Age wiki<span>.


	4. Chapter IV

Happy New Year, everyone!

_Dragon Age and all associated revenues belong to Bioware._

A huge, massive, hug-laden thank-you to everyone who reviewed, alerted or fave'd this story, it's such a wonderful inspiration!

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><p>"Layleth!" Cailan wrapped me in a tight embrace, delighted to see someone familiar and decidedly, not my father.<p>

"Oh! Hi there, sweetie!" I gave the king a tight hug back, laughing somewhat. I got away with calling him sweetie, mostly because I had known him since birth, and because he saw me as a big sister, at least that was his reason to the diplomats. Granted, I'm only 6 months older, but regardless, I still love my brother-in-law.

"I'm so glad you made it! And you're a Warden now too! I'm so happy for you."

"Yes well, it wasn't without cost. We'll get into it later though," I smiled at him and he beamed back, truly seeming happy to have me there, unlike father who was, quite obviously, glowering at both of us.  
>"Hi daddy," I whispered, walking to stand next to the King's council table, covered with maps depicting troop movements and scouting reports.<p>

"Hello, Layleth…" He said after a minute, and gave me a small smile, to which I gladly exhaled the breath I had unconsciously been holding. At least he didn't, as of yet, see me as something other than human.  
>"So…what exactly do we have here, they'll be on our doorstep…soon." Duncan's voice cut through the light-hearted fragile cheer we had, forcing everyone back to the situation at hand.<br>Cailan sighed, staring hard at the maps in front of him,  
>"I really hate them, you that Duncan. They're going to be coming up from the south, from the Korcari Wilds, we don't know where they're spawning in there, but it's big. We have the high-ground, but from what you've told me before and what the scouts reported, that means little to them since they like to burrow…"<p>

"Do we have any plan at all, or is this going to be wild and messy warfare?" I asked, trying to search for quick escape routes, on the maps. That was my main issue with Ostagar, it was easily defensible and in its glory days, was probably invulnerable, but if something did get in, you were trapped – your only escape is to leap off the main bridge. There weren't any defensive cave systems that led away from the fortress if something went wrong, which something would. Something always went wrong in war, that was the point.

Just from my brief dealings with the Darkspawn in the Wilds, I knew that these things would use every underhanded tactic they had.

Father spoke up, "We have a basic outline. Main force here," He pointed to an area below the main bridge, where the general soldier's camp was set up. It was a valley that led downwards from our position. It looked like the best we could do…

"And then, when the signal is given, we have men in the Tower of Ishal nearby, they'll light that beacon and then my men and I will charge in and perform a sweep, hopefully getting the whole of the horde routed in the middle." He finished, pointing from where they would charging.

"Do you think the Archdemon will appear Duncan?" Cailan interjected suddenly, his eyes alighting with avarice for glory.

"Cailan…" Father warned, but Duncan chuckled somewhat at my brother-in-laws thirst for warfare, "We've…_picked up _some very basic rumblings from the horde, your majesty. It may, but I would not be surprised if it did not. However, your majesty, Darkspawn are wicked and crafty things, they may not be particularly intelligent, but they are very covert and we must be prepared for anything."

Cailan seemed a bit crestfallen at the notion that the Archdemon might not show its ugly head. At my mental image of the Beast in my mind, I quaked slightly when some of the Song slipped through, taunting me with its beauty, I could hear my intake of breath and Duncan's strong hand clamp down on mine.

Begrudgingly, I opened my eyes, not realizing I had closed them and tightened my own grip on Duncan's hand to show I had it under control. Carefully, he let my hand go.

"I was hoping for a battle like in the tales…" Cailan said this as he reclined into the chair behind him, letting his weight rest; he closed his eyes, "The king of Ferelden riding into battle with the fabled Grey Wardens, against a tainted God. I can almost see it…" He chuckled to himself.

Father's eyes narrowed and I inwardly cringed, he and Cailan had never seen eye to eye, they had different views practically about everything, and while I would normally say 'different opinions leads to good conversation'…that was not the case with these two. "Cailan, forget the fairytales for now, if you will, we need to attend to _reality_, the Horde is getting closer by the minute, you need to get into your armor and rally the men…" For once…I agreed with father.

"Yes, yes, Loghain…of course." Cailan sighed, studying the map in front of him for a moment longer, "Loghain…who do we have at the Tower of Ishal in the ruins?" Father actually seemed rather pleased by this question, like Cailan had actually made an intelligent inquiry.  
>"I have a few men stationed there, it's not a dangerous position, but it is <em>absolutely<em> vital, why?" Cailan just nodded, thinking hard over something, debating.

"If it's vital, I want our best there; send Layleth and Alistair to reinforce the men stationed there."

"_What!_"

"I want no chances taken, Loghain. Layleth, you'd be okay with this, yes?" Cailan turned to me, but I didn't meet his eyes, I was too busy looking anywhere but father. Sighing, I nodded somewhat, "I think you should ask Duncan…"

"Duncan?"

"Of course, Your Majesty." Duncan acquiesced to the Kings request.

Father was fuming, glaring daggers at Cailan's back; "This is absurd, Cailan! We need all of the Wardens on the front lines, as a precautionary measure for _your _safety! Since _you _cling to this fool-notion that we need Grey Wardens in the first place! Or the idiotic, and potentially catastrophic notion that _you _be on the front lines! We need them with you!" I didn't particularly like the notion my father made about Grey Wardens not being needed. The way he said it, it almost sounded like he expected betrayal.

Even from me?

Apparently, 'other than human' doesn't even begin to cover it.

Cailan sat up from his chair and began to walk around the table to leave the council tent, and just before he stepped outside, he looked back at Loghain, "No." and he was out into the cool, evening air.

"A shame he's the one with the royal blood, isn't it?" Father quipped sharply to no one in particular before taking his leave.  
>I turned to Duncan, smiling somewhat, "You should see them at the Wintersend eve banquet when they both want the gravy…" Duncan laughed openly at this while we took our leave.<p>

* * *

><p>Alistair was less than pleased when Duncan informed him that we wouldn't be in the battle.<p>

"But…what…how…why? Is he daft? We should be in the battle!" Alistair rather loudly protested from his position on his bedroll. He had taken his free time to catch up on about 40 minutes of sleep, I envied him.  
>He jerked sideways while I was trying in vain to help him with his cuirass, how he got out of the thing without help was beyond me. I hated heavier armors just for this reason!<p>

"If you move again, you can go running into battle in nothing but the skin the Maker gave you!" I growled, pulling another buckle closed. His chuckle sounded, "Sorry…thanks for the help though." I grunted in response, pulling another strap closed.

"Ow! Too tight! Too tight!" Seething in frustration, I undid the buckle and retried. "I really hate your armor…" Pulling tight, I slipped my little finger beneath the strap to check for pressure, when I was satisfied it wouldn't fall off randomly during battle, I stood up.

Duncan said nothing, just stared with an eyebrow raised.

"What?" I demanded, wiping some of my black hair out of my eyes. I had literally worked up a sweat trying to get that damned tin-can onto his chest.  
>"Hmm…nothing. Alistair, if the king wants Wardens on that beacon, he'll have them, understand." He said in his 'commander' tone. I was thankful it wasn't directed at me this time.<p>

One heavy, overly dramatic sigh later, Alistair acquiesced. "Fine, but if he asks me to put on a dress and start dancing the Remigold, I'm drawing a damned line!" The mental image that came with that statement caused me to burst into a fit of giggles.

"I…would _die _to see that!" I chortled.

"Maybe for you, but it has to be one of those pretty dresses, with the ribbons on the bos…" Duncan's groan of impatience shut us both up quicker than the sudden appearance of the sound of…marching…

"And too think I _recruited _you both, go…get to the Tower. Alistair; make sure you watch for the signal. Maker help us all…" And with that, Duncan left us, but a strong sense of unease came over me as I watched his retreating form.

Why had the Song stopped?


	5. Chapter V

Wow! I got more reviews and faves on the last chapter than on any other chapter so far! Thanks so much to everyone who's been following the story, your continued support means a lot to me.

_Dragon Age and all associated revenues belong to Bioware_.

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><p>I had to admit, Alistair was <em>amazing <em>in combat. While I had seen masters of the craft at the War College, and if I wanted to be a bit prideful, I could easily call myself well-trained and well-taught in the art of dual-wielding, Alistair made shield and sword combat look so…_graceful_.

I had never liked that style, I thought the shield was too bulky and it always got in my way. And, the embarrassing part, the really good shields, you know the type, the ones that can stop a foot-long crossbow bolt fired from short distance with no problem. I'm too short to properly use one.

They tend to drag with me…

But getting to watch someone who clearly knew what they were doing with the style was quite interesting, and almost beautiful in a way. But I had little time for such distractions, when we arrived across the catapult-fire laden bridge; we discovered that the Tower had been infested with Darkspawn!

I bet no one saw this one coming…

"Layleth! Genlock mage!" I could faintly hear Alistair scream while I ripped my dagger brutally out of a Hurlock's mouth, splitting its jaw in two. I had just enough time to see what Alistair was yelling about before he bashed me out of the way, his hand held high. The fireball that had been racing towards us fizzled out of the air, destroyed by whatever Alistair's Templar abilities had done.

The little nuisance fell to my well-aimed thrown dagger.

"Thanks…" I breathed, pulling myself from my kneeling position, favoring my knee only slightly. Did he have to bash me out of the way so hard? Hot damn!

Looking around, there were several Darkspawn corpses, but our own men had disappeared. "Where's the mage? And those two soldiers?"

"Dead…" Well, that put a damper on things, I wondered idly for how long, but pushed the thoughts aside, we had to move if we wanted to get that beacon! Alistair and I ran amongst the corridors of the Tower, slashing and bashing and occasionally, Alistair doing whatever he does to mages.

By the time we reached the top level, my legs burned, and my arm wound had reopened from the small stitches Morrigan's mother had used, apparently, something had slashed me there, as blood was literally dripping out of me despite the tightly-wound bandages: I would bleed to death if I wasn't careful.

"How'd those men die?" I asked, running at full speed next to Alistair, we were racing up another staircase, the sounds of something _big _on the roof were next to deafening, and I had to pray that it wasn't the Archdemon.

"I didn't see; I just saw the bodies…" He gasped, in between strides.

"Shit…"

"Language, Layleth," He chuckled, but it was a mirthless, cold sound. He knew just as well as I, that there was a chance we had just gotten two people with families…with children, killed, but despite the situation; I found the strength to roll my eyes at his Chantry-boy morals. But our little conversation aside, Alistair and I kept running, like our lives depended on it, and in a way they did, but not just _our_ lives. We slammed through the door, breaking out onto the roof, the cold, winter air hit me sharply; but I loved it. The rain…not so much…

At first, it was like I wasn't seeing what was in front of me. A massive, bloated creature, with horns that reached for the sky like perverse fingers, thick, ropy muscles covered its bulbous arms, claws like tree-branches depended from each finger, long and brutally sharp.

"Oh…_fuck_!" I cursed, pausing only long enough to take in sight of the beast, before I charged, screaming "Get the beacon!" at Alistair.

The monster didn't seem to notice me at first as I was racing towards it at a blistering pace, but it noticed me when I leaped on its back, each dagger buried into its pus-filled, black veined flesh. The remains of its meal dropped from its hands as it roared back in pain, the ogre trying in vain to reach around and pluck me off, but I held on, leveraging my feet into its fatty back, I yanked the blades and myself free, landing on all fours, my daggers tucked inwards to avoid slicing myself, I dashed away, the beast giving chase.

Like magic…and it may have been magic for all I knew, I didn't know how Templars operated, the entire sky lit up as the beacon burst to life, crackling flames and smoke racing along the wooden canopy over us.

_Yes! Yes! He did it!_

I rolled as the Ogre's fist came down, nearly right on top of my head, but I just managed to avoid it. What I didn't manage to avoid, was the monsters other hand. I was grabbed roughly by the beast's incredibly tight grip. A scream tore through my throat when I felt several ribs shatter under the crushing weight. One arm was free, and I brought my dagger down into the Ogre's wrist, trying to sever his vein, but with no such luck. The creature roared in pain and threw me away like one might throw away a rotten vegetable.

I hit one of the stone pillars keeping the beacon aloft above us…_hard_. A strangled yelp of pain rushed out of me when I flopped to the ground, landing on my splintered ribs.

"Alistair!" I screamed, not for help, but for him to watch his ass! I could vaguely see him through the pounding rain, avoiding the clumsy strikes of the Ogre, but faring little better than I had, but then, like a righteous lightning strike, he leaped on the thing, knocking it off balance just enough to let the rain-slick ground do the rest of the work, the beast hit the ground hard, and a moment later, found Alistair's blade being jammed into its face. Messy and painful way to die…I hoped it hurt.

* * *

><p>Alistair was waiting with me, while we listened to the clash of the battle below. Neither of us knew if whether or not my father had charged and won the day, but it wasn't sounding like everything had gone to plan, perhaps the Darkspawn had killed more in the beginning attack than we were expecting, I didn't know, but this fight was going on for far too long.<p>

"You don't have to stay, Alistair…you can go, help Duncan…" I mumbled hoarsely, it was hard to speak, with what were probably shards of _my own ribs_ sticking into my lungs and diaphragm. I knew that if I didn't get help quickly, I would probably die, but at the same time…I wasn't worried about this. I didn't care that almost every bone in my side had probably been broken beyond repair; I was worried about father, and about Cailan and about Duncan. It was a survival technique I tended to fall back on, reject current reality and focus on something else.

"And leave you? Here? With broken ribs and labored breathing? They'd have to drag me out of here…"

I looked up at him quizzically, wincing at the pain such a movement caused. My head was resting on his knee, his sword drawn and laid across his lap, the blade facing away from me. He was right about all those things, especially the breathing. It was getting harder to breathe with each passing second, which told me my lungs were filling, but I ignored that, I…I didn't know if I would be fine, but I was pretending like I would. Reject current reality, focus on something else.

"Why? You barely know me…seriously, go help them…" He shook his head.

"That'd be signing your death-warrant." He whispered, giving me a small smile, "And you really need to watch your language! Yelling that oath just because an _ogre_ was in your way…Maker…" He mocked, making me laugh slightly, but again with that pain in my lungs, the laugh fell silent.

"Sorry…" He winced, brushing some of my wet, plastered hair out of my face.

"What's the point of waiting…?" I wondered aloud after a minute or two.

"Eventually, the battle will end and the scouts that were watching the Tower will report that Darkspawn got in, and then Duncan and a bunch of soldiers will become our cavalry and make it here just in time to save you! That's how these things always work, don't you ever read?" He was trying desperately to make light of a situation that was next to impossible to make better, whatsoever.

But I was grateful to him for it.

"Next time…you charge the ogre…" I whimpered.

"Deal."

Our banter was cut off by a horrifying sound, or at least horrifying to my ears: the sound of something running up the stairs beneath us, the sounds of Genlocks and Hurlocks.

"Alistair…" I whispered, my eyes widening in horror. This was it; a platoon must've snuck past the main group to reinforce their brethren here. As much an accomplished fighter Alistair was, I didn't think he could hold off what sounded like 20 Darkspawn all on his own.

Maker be damned that I'm not a mage…

Alistair gently moved me off his knee and took up his sword, giving it a few experimental twirls and shrugged his shield off his back, whispering, "I hear them…" If he was going down, he was going down good.

This was all, my fault…

If I hadn't let that thing grab me, or if I had the sense to let it kill me once it had, he wouldn't be here, he'd be down there, surviving, next to Duncan and Cailan and my father and all the people that _real _Wardens like him were supposed to protect.

The Darkspawn broke out onto the roof, and Alistair charged, I couldn't watch. As I rolled onto my back, to stare at the sky and wait for the inevitable, I saw the strangest thing. A shape flying past the full moon, dark and heavy…_feathered_.

The scream of a giant bird of prey announced the arrival of a beast as big as a Dragon, dark beautiful feathers and a golden beak with bright golden eyes. Where had I seen those eyes? The bird crashed through the Darkspawn, it's talons sweeping aside and cutting the creatures to ribbons, wheeling in the sky, one claw caught Alistair gently, and the other scooped me up, careful to my injuries.

Confusion colored my thoughts.

"_Sleep, girl…sleep." _And so I did…


	6. Chapter VI

You guys are all so lovely and wonderful, and I give a huge thank-you to all my readers, everyone who reviews, faves and alerts; it all means so much to me, so thank-you! I'd also just like to say that tomorrow may go without a chapter, this is not set in stone, and I will try extremely hard to get one all finished and edited for tomorrow, but just in case, I'm letting you all know.

_Dragon Age and all associated revenues belong to Bioware_.

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><p>I was awake, after an indeterminate amount of time, I was awake, but I just couldn't find the strength to open my eyes. I'm dead aren't I? I have to be, that's the only option. Alistair and I died didn't we? The Darkspawn?<p>

What happened to the Darkspawn, I should hear them, and I shouldn't be on a bed. But maybe they killed me quick and I'm in the Fade? Did they have beds in the Fade? Somehow I doubt it. But…what am I missing.

A bird?

_The bird_...

That massive beast that swooped down from the sky! It killed a great many of the Darkspawn, it grabbed Alistair and I and flew away with us, but I fell asleep! And the voice! The bird spoke to me!

Speaking birds? Wait…what?

Sitting up, I forced my eyes open, wondering why there was a bed in a bird's nest; only to discover, this wasn't a birds nest: this was a house. Familiar and old, warmth echoed from a huge hearth set into one wall, a shape sitting by it on the floor.

"Oh good, you aren't dead! 'Tis quite the relief! Mother was actually worried even her magic wouldn't be able to heal you completely!" A shrill, accented voice sounded, spearing straight through my head, leaving a piercing headache in its wake. Morrigan, of all people stepped in front of me, away from the cooking fire she had been seated in front of.

Gently, she lifted my chin and gazed into each eye, waving a finger back and forth, watching my eyes follow it. I knew what she was doing, and I didn't fight it, it was to test if I'd kept my vision and coordination and to be honest, I'd love to know if I'd kept it as well, without any hand-eye coordination, I might as well go home.

"Good…good." She whispered.

"Morrigan? You…are you a bird?" My question was met with a wide-eyed stare followed by several moments of chuckling, her high, exotic voice filling the small room with sound.  
>"Oh no, I'm afraid I'm not a bird currently. Mother helped you…once again as I'm sure she'll let you know. She turned into a giant bird and plucked both you and that idiot you work with from the top of that Tower, you'd be dead if it wasn't for her."<p>

"Alistair! You mean Alistair! Where is he? Is he alright, he rushed off to fight the Darkspawn, to protect me because I was hurt! Is he alright! Where's the King! And Duncan! Did we win? Where's my father!" Morrigan pried my clinging hands off of her arms and took a step back, looking incredulously at me.

"One question at a time, Warden, alright? That sword and shield toting moron is outside by the water's edge, he's fine. I do not know anything about any King, and I do not know who this Duncan even is. As for your father, I know not, I have never met or seen the man, but if he was involved in that battle…than I am sorry for your loss…"

I sat back, horrified, "You mean…he's…dead?" Morrigan said nothing, merely nodded. I didn't bring it up again.

"As for why that happened the way it did, a general by the name of Loghain…quit the field, leaving the King and everyone to die, your father too no doubt. I had a good view of the battle; I saw this occur…I am sorry…"

I said nothing; I just stared at Morrigan unbelieving. No, father wouldn't. There's no way, there…just…but…_no!_

I felt tears prick at the back of my eyes. Cailan – friend and King, butchered by those monsters because father pulled back? No, that…that can't be what happened. The Darkspawn routed the main-force, he pulled back to save his men, as any good general would do. But…he left me?

No, he couldn't get to me. It was a tactical loss; I would've done the same.

Right?

I nodded my head, trying to believe my own words. I had to tell myself this, I could face the ramifications if I was wrong later. I needed to act, I didn't know what to do, but I needed to act. I needed to…oh, Holy Maker…_Anora_…

Thoughts of my sister screaming and crying in grief drifted in and out of my mind, but like everything else, I pushed them away and buckled down.

"Your weapons and armor are there by the wash basin, feel free to the water, and come outside when you're ready. Mother wishes to speak to you."

"Of course…I'll be out in a moment," I nodded my assent, and Morrigan left me to my own devices. With stiff, aching muscles, I pulled myself to my feet, feeling along my side. Not a bone out of place, or a strained crack, or even the smallest pinch of pain. I was healed.  
>Walking over to the mirror in the corner, near the feeble wash basin, I checked over myself, I had bruising, and oddly enough, the wound on my wrist had scarred. It was healed, but a thin, pale line discolored my skin.<p>

Once I had checked for injuries, I stood back and really looked at myself. Daddy's black hair, momma's green eyes, daddy's pale skin, momma's long fingers and less-than-average height; I was the image of my parents. But did I really look like the daughter of a man who left the King to die. A potential betrayed to the crown and country he fought to protect?

_Tactical withdrawal. _I told myself, but even I was having difficulty believing it. He hated Cailan; that much was obvious. It wasn't the reckless, Darkspawn-esque hatred though. It was the subtle hatred, the secret fury at his foolish actions, at his willingness to put behind our history with Orlais to forge an alliance with Empress Celene.

Would he do that to Anora?

Would Anora honestly be affected any more adversely than say…Morrigan?

Pushing these thoughts out of my mind, I washed and dressed quickly. The black trousers, made out of flexible glove-leather, the black undershirt, the chainmail, the black leather outer layer, the gloves, the boots, each dagger sheathed in each boot, easy to be drawn and sheathed.

Once I had tightened the last buckle on my boots, I walked outside.

Morrigan and her mother were speaking in quickened, hushed tones. Alistair stood off to the side, staring out over the small lake beside the hut. His shoulders were slouched; he looked _tired_.

Choosing Alistair over the two bickering woman, I approached, "Alistair?"

He looked up at the sound of my voice, relief alighting in his eyes.

"You're really okay?" He let out a sigh of relief, and we shared a look. I was only okay because of him, regardless of what Morrigan and her mother did, if Alistair had left me, I would've died. "I was worried, Layleth…" He added.

"No need, Morrigan's mother healed me, I guess. I kind of wish I was awake for that part, I've always thought magic was sort of…pretty?" I finished lamely, sounding like a dumb-and-deaf child gawking at the dinner table. I spoke mostly out of the need to talk, to be able to focus on something so I had a solid foundation upon which to reject my current reality.

I needed Alistair…my only friend.

With a dawn of realization, more than anything; that's what I realized he was. He was my only friend. Growing up, I never had many friends, father kept me sheltered, both Anora and I. But Anora always had Cailan…

I suppose I did too, he would laugh at my jokes, invite me to play tag with him and Anora, that one time he sat talking with me for over an hour because I was scared Anora would have to have her foot removed when she sprained her ankle from falling off a rock. He told me how dramatic I was being and she just had to have it wrapped and iced for a few days, but _no_, I was dead certain that limb would have to be chopped off.

Anora herself later laughed at my 'stupidity' as she called it.

And now, that blonde-boy was gone…

And my only friend left, was Alistair, the man I had met less than a day ago.

"Do not speak of me, as if I am not present, my dears…" The old woman croaked as she approached; slow and measured steps. The rust-red, loose fitting robes she wore swirled around her, long silver hair left loose and flowing. She was rather pretty for her age; for it was clear the woman was of many years. I hoped to be that pretty when I was her age.

Those haunting golden eyes gleamed with intelligence.

"I'm sorry, but what should we call you?" Alistair asked, scratching absently at the back of his head. It was clear from his facial expression, the way he held himself that he was absolutely _terrified _and I was right there with him on that count. What was going on? What were we supposed to do now?

Fear of the unknown is always the worst type.

"Names are pretty, useless things, but for many years, I was known as Flemeth, I suppose the moniker shall do." I paled further at the name.

_The _Flemeth? Really? The Witch of the Wilds? Mother had told Anora and I of such stories when we were young.  
>Alistair's elbow knocked into me when I backed up ever so slightly. Glancing up at him, he mouthed, "You alright?"<p>

"Of course she is not alright, she recognizes my name. Yes, Layleth, I am the woman who steals children from loose-living mothers and eats them, as you can clearly see. And yes, my daughters; notice the use of plural, are wicked women who castrate men and steal their seed, creating monstrous children to run about devouring bad children in their sleep." She was mocking me, and I actually felt the tension that had built up in my neck release a little bit.

Even if she was The Witch of the Wilds, she had saved us, and when it came down to it, she was just another apostate mage. It's not like she's a Dragon…

"So…if you're Flemeth, you must be….beyond powerful, and very old." I acknowledged.

"Age and power are relative, and in this, you are correct, on both counts, but enough about me. We need to decide what you two are going to do. A Blight claws at the land, I know this for I have _Seen _it." I didn't let on, or at least I didn't think I did, that I heard the capital letters, "And it seems, that every other Grey Warden in the land, was just killed in one fell swoop. Leaving only you two…" I didn't like where she was headed with this, and I could practically feel the tension ooze off of Alistair behind me.

Oh, holy Maker…every other Warden? _Duncan_…

I stared horrified up at Alistair who seemed to catch that I had caught on. His eyes bored into me, and I could see the pain there, but also the plea of 'not here, not now.' I nodded, and turned back to Flemeth.

"How did this happen? I just…I just don't get it!"

"It was Loghain, Layleth. He betrayed the King and the Wardens…he…he left all those people to die, he left _us _to die." The hatred in Alistair's voice clenched at my heart, but like I had been doing since I had woken up, I pushed it down. I could fix this, I knew I could, I just needed time.

I knew what I doing to myself, I was in denial, but that was okay, because I could _fix _it, I'd fix it, and everything would be okay again.

"Why do you think he'd do that?" I asked weakly, stepping out from in between Alistair and Flemeth to stare out at the small lake.

I caught Flemeth's knowing glance at me, smiling darkly, almost as if…s_he knew_.

Flemeth nonetheless chuckled at my comment, "Perhaps he thinks the Blight is an army he can out-maneuver, and perhaps he does not see that evil, the Beast behind it, is the true threat…"

"The man just murdered his own King…if Arl Eamon knew he'd be the first to call for his bloody execution." I don't know why, I honestly don't, why I asked, or why I would care, but for some reason, in the back of my mind, in the back of my heart, I felt that this was an option we needed to have available.

"The Arl of Redcliffe?"

"I know the Arl; he's a good man, Layleth, well respected in the Landsmeet. We could count on him if we needed too, trust me." I nodded somewhat at Alistair's response.

"But we still have this Blight to contend with! And we're the only Wardens left." I wanted to start shouting that he was the only Warden, but I knew I couldn't do that, not in good conscience.

"Boy…the treaties?" Flemeth directed the question to Alistair, who cocked his head to the side, thinking for a moment, before understanding flooded his features.

"Duncan told me to keep them! While you were passed out during the Joining, Duncan gave me the treaties after flipping through them! They promise us help! From elves, mages, dwarves!" Alistair shouted, grabbing my shoulders and spinning me to face him, shaking me slightly in his excitement.

"Well now…elves, mages, dwarves, this Arl who I've never heard of? This sounds like quite the army, perhaps one strong enough to defeat even the Blight itself?" Flemeth questioned, chuckling.

Or maybe cackling, whenever I looked at her, I always thought of cackling, not chuckling.

I sighed, happy….no, happy wasn't the right word for what I felt, but…regardless, it felt good to have direction, "Well, sounds like we have our work cut out for us, doesn't it Flemeth?" She smiled in return.

"Morrigan! Get your things together, you're leaving!" Flemeth suddenly called, much to the dismay of so-far silent woman.  
>"Wait, what?" Morrigan blundered, looking quite scandalized.<p>

"I said you're leaving, you'll accompany the Grey Wardens on their journey, your spells will be useful to them, as will your knowledge of root medicine; now go get your things…" Alistair and I shared a look.

"If she doesn't want to come with us, that's quite okay, Flemeth. Outside of the Wilds, she's an apostate…" Alistair began but quickly shut up when Flemeth shot the iciest glare at him.  
>"If you didn't want help from an illegal mage, than perhaps I should've left you to be disemboweled by the Darkspawn…" Alistair swallowed thickly.<p>

"Point taken…"

"I'm sure it is…"

Okay, so…while I was now being forced to believe I was related to a mass murderer…the day was beginning to look up…slightly…

"Hey, Morrigan!" I called to her before she entered her hut to collect her things, I had to find this out beforehand, or suffer the consequences of leaving my thoughts unspoken.  
>An irritated huff later, "Yes…?"<p>

"Can you cook?"

Narrowing her eyes at me, she nodded curtly, "I _can _cook, yes?"

This was the glimmer of sunshine in the dark cavern today had been so far. Turning to Alistair, I was actually smiling, which already seemed out of place.  
>"That means she can take over for you, Alistair!"<p>

"_Hey!_"


	7. Chapter VII

Big, super huge thanks to my friend Lauren (i.e reason-for-living) for beta'ing this chapter really fast for me. And of course, thanks to everyone who's fave'd, alerted and reviewed this story, I'm so glad you guys actually like it enough to keep reading, and I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.

_Dragon Age and all associated revenues belong to Bioware._

* * *

><p>"I don't believe you…" I whispered, watching the flames dance before my vision, trying to find some semblance of equilibrium again. It was like my world had been tossed onto its side and no one was going to help me move it back because everyone thought I was fine.<br>What started out as the simple pleasure of being an unknown has become my only protection; if Alistair knew; or if Morrigan found out and told him?

"I don't believe in you, anymore…" I spoke yet again, my eyes turning from the fire to watch Alistair's sleeping form, Morrigan was on the other side of the fire, sound asleep, her breathing slow and even.

I turned my gaze skywards, staring up at the stars, trying to put my life back into order, "You left me, daddy…" It had taken me all day to come to this conclusion, but that's the part that stung me the absolute most. He had been willing to leave me atop that tower and make up some story to Anora as to why her husband and her sister weren't coming home.

But I could _fix _this, I just knew I could.

Hearing a small whine from my side, I glanced over to the Mabari, laying there watching me with those incredibly bright brown eyes. We had found him earlier in the day, running from a pack of Darkspawn, I was assuming he was one of the Mabari from Ostagar, but I could be wrong, he may have even been that one Daveth collected those herbs for back in the Korcari Wilds, now wouldn't that be the craziest thing.

I had taken to affectionately calling him Florence.

After walking with him for the rest of the day, everyone had decided on stopping and continuing on in the morning towards Lothering.

I needed substance, I knew that, I needed something to do, something to divert my attention away from Ostagar, and I had that, so I just couldn't understand why I was worrying. I had a whole Blight to fend off with nothing but a Templar, a Witch and a Mabari!

"Why do I care? Why didn't I suspect this…?" I asked myself quietly, keeping my tone low and nearly silent, as too not awaken either of my two companions.

Another whine from Florence and I turned my attention back to him, running my hand through the soft fur of his neck, smiling at him, "I know - I know…I should quit moping…" He perked up a bit, and licked my hand, implying that's exactly what he meant.

He might've well as said, "_Be happy! At least you've got me!_"

"Layleth…?"

I glanced over at Alistair who was slowly rousing himself, his hair sticking up from bedhead, his eyes bleary, he cocked his head at me, almost…Mabari like…  
>"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I wake you, Alistair?"<p>

"What're you doing up, Layleth?" He avoided my question with one of his own, crawling out from his bedroll to sit beside me, near the fire. I had to avert my eyes to keep from staring at bare-chest. Couldn't he put on a shirt, at least? I mean, obviously I'm a mess: I don't need to be mesmerized by your abs…

"Just…thinking about Ostagar…"

He let out a heavy sigh, nodding somewhat. We hadn't had a chance to really talk about anything since Flemeth's hut. I leaned backward, letting my back rest against the exposed root of the wayward pine tree we were camped out under, in the little trough beneath the massive toppled tree. It provided good cover.

"I…I still feel in shock, I suppose. I keep waiting for Duncan to walk over, tell me to get myself ready to go for whatever, but…then it's like a fresh wave of grief all over again…" He whispered after a minute of both of us trying to collect our thoughts.

"My father was there, at Ostagar…" _What was I doing_? Why in all of creation would I say such a thing? Part of me desperately wanted to come clean now, to get the curse of my parentage off my chest and just get on with my life once Alistair proclaimed me his enemy. The other part of me was the part that was winning, telling me to shut up.

"Oh Maker..." Alistair's eyes widened in what must've been concern for my supposed grief of losing my father to the Darkspawn, but I shook my head.  
>"I don't think he even knew I was there, Alistair. I…he loved me…but…not as much as he could've, does that make sense?" There was a long pause between us, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, Alistair was trying to organize his thoughts and I appreciated that. That he was willing to take a second to think before he spoke, that wasn't going to try and blow sunshine up my skirt.<p>

"It makes perfect sense…you aren't the only one who's dealt with that. For me though, it wasn't so much my father…I never knew him – it was my mother who sent me away to become a Templar…" I felt guilty for allowing him to believe a lie, when he himself was willing to give me the truth.

"Oh well though, right? It's just strange, knowing that…he's not there anymore." I said after a few minutes of companionable silence, trying to break the heaviness that had settled onto us. I didn't like it, it felt cloying.

"I'm sorry, Layleth, and I know that's the _last thing _you want to hear from anybody, but I am sorry, and you can always talk with me…"

I smiled at him, and playfully punched his arm, "You never told me what woke you up."

"Bad dreams…"

"What kind?"

"The Bad kind, duh; didn't I just say that?"

"…Is it a Warden thing?"

"…Yeah…"

I just nodded once, looking back at the crackling fire, slowly dying down. Picking up a nearby stick, I prodded the firewood, sending up a flurry of sparks and renewed flames, lending us more heat and warmth. Neither of us said anything for a while, we just sat there, staring into the flames, remembering those who had come before us.

I would've thought Alistair had fallen asleep, had his knee not bumped mine, "Hey, get some sleep, Layleth, I'll be up for a bit, I'll watch over…everything," I smiled, really _smiled_, even if it was only for just a second, because I could've sworn he meant to say 'over you.'

"I couldn't sleep if I wanted too…and that's okay. I'll survive, once when I was still in the War College, we had these drill runs out in the Brecillian forest, because as I'm sure you know, Gwaren is on the other side of the Brecillian, anyway, one time, my drill inspector sent myself out with two others, and I had to stay awake for _four days straight_. Not even a wink of sleep, so yes, I am a hard-ass, and I can take it!"

"Language, Layleth, and that's pretty impressive. Not as impressive as my 6 day run without sleep while I was training to be a Templar…" A knee-jerk reaction was to call bullshit, why would a Templar need to stay up for that long, but – like Alistair had done for me – I organized and thought before I spoke. I actually could see it once I thought about it.  
>They had to hunt Apostates, and Blood-witches, and if they had gotten a big head start, it wasn't like the Chantry was just like 'better luck next time', no, they sent out the Templars, and told them to hurry.<p>

"I bet I could out-stay-awake you any day of the week, Templar…" I challenged, grinning at him, "And I refuse to believe 'ass', and 'bitch' are bad words, just so you know, so chastising me for those will get you nowhere. 'Shit' and 'fuck' I can see, but definitely not 'as…" I was cut off by Alistair's hand clamping over my mouth.

"…Did you hear that?" He asked, deadly serious, his eyes peering off into the darkness to my left. I stiffened, holding my breath. Where were my knives? Where had I put them? Oh shit, if we die because I didn't keep my blades close at hand…

Some watchman I was.

Alistair peered around me, his eyes narrowed, watching…no _listening_. After a moment, he dropped his hand with a sigh of relief, "Oh good, it was just your profanity…" He chuckled, completely dropping the ruse.

I punched him in the arm again…hard this time.

* * *

><p>The Inn was a small one, a two story affair that smelled of spilled spirits, but seemed quite popular with the locals.<p>

"We need a room, I refuse to sleep on the ground again," Morrigan huffed from behind me, her tone clearly indicating that she hadn't appreciated having to rough it, _despite _being raised in the woods. Made you think, didn't it?

"Fine…, but you're cooking…"

Her deflated sigh made me smirk, score one point to me, "Oh, very well!"

The inside was actually worse than the outside had been. Spirits were indeed spilled all over the place; it was cramped, and filled with sweaty people deep in their cups. But a wide variety of people decorated the interior, farmers, merchants, a few soldiers it looked like, and…a Chantry sister?

Too each her own, I suppose.

It was while Alistair and I were squeezing through the crowd towards the bar that we heard a voice cry, "Hey! Aren't those the two Grey Wardens!" We both froze, our eyes coming to rest on each other's. Oh hell.

Two of the soldiers blundered forth, their eyes stabbing icy daggers into my stomach, this was going to get very violent in about three minutes, and I _hate _bar-fights. While they can be fun, and I'm known to be proficient with a bar-stool, it's still a bad place for a battle to break out, especially if you miss your target and hit someone else. Then suddenly it's like the end of the world, with broken bottles and chairs flying all over the place.

I turned to Morrigan, who had worked her way through the crowd to get to us, and I prayed she could read my eyes enough to know that I blamed her for the soon-to-be carnage.

"Why hello, good sirs! My name is Alistair and this is a nameless barbarian queen, and that is our darkly tempting and very seductive guide!" I literally hit the heel of my hand to my forehead.

"I'm a 'nameless barbarian queen'?" I seethed, "And where's the diplomacy? We've talked about this before…"

"I am being diplomatic!"

"I'd hate to see you when you're trying to get us killed then!" I turned my attention back to the two soldiers, smiling as politely as I could manage.

"Why do you ask if we are Grey Wardens?"

"Teyrn Loghain has an order out to arrest all of the traitors! And we saw you, I saw you at Ostagar! You killed King Cailan!" The man roared, but I said nothing, staring at almost nothing. So it's come to this then, has it father?

"Gentlemen! Please, I'm sure there is no need for this result in any unpleasantness!" The Chantry sister of all people spoke up, coming to stand in between the soldiers and us. I wanted to push her out of the way and start in on the brawl that I knew was coming, but I bit my lip, keeping myself from swinging. It wouldn't do to pick at Alistair for lack of diplomacy and then right after, throw speech to the wind and open a barrel of kick-ass.

"Out of the way, sister, unless you wish to join them!" One of the soldiers growled.

"Well then…I suppose this ends one way, doesn't it?" She sighed, shaking her head as if this was a great waste.  
>"Alistair…pass me that stool…"<p>

"I've been waiting to see this," He chuckled, passing said stool to me. Grinning darkly at the soldiers, I spun towards them, gaining momentum and I s_wung_!


	8. Chapter VIII

__Sorry for the wait, everyone. Life caught up with me and you know how that can be, but regardless of all that, to everyone who fave'd, alerted and reviewed, thank you so much, I'm so glad you guys like the story.

_Dragon Age and all associated revenues belong to Bioware._

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><p><em>The Song sounded like it was almost physical, like if I simply reached out my hand, I could grab ahold of it, take it into me, and fill myself up with it. All my stress, all my fear and worry and pain would simply fade away into nothingness, only the Song would matter to me.<br>The sweetest type of absolute oblivion,  
>The Beast roared, his terrible voice screaming in my ears, but I didn't care, because his wicked laugh couldn't compare to the Song, the song of the souls he has taken from the world. I wondered if they were really souls.<em>

_Could the Archdemon take souls? Is it an illusion, is it really him singing? But it doesn't matter, because it was too perfect. The notes were in my vision, tangible, I could see the lush crescendos, the heartbreakingly clear diminuendos, each voice a perfect chime to add to the sound._

_The Dragon roared again, and this time, I couldn't hold onto the Song, it slipped somewhat, nearly breaking away from me. There was pain all around me, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the Dragon, sitting on his throne. I could feel cold iron clapped down around my wrists, and meat-hooks driven into my shoulders, I was being hoisted aloft by my own flesh, but I couldn't bring myself to care, because all I could think and hear and see was the Song. But it was so perfect, why wouldn't everyone have longed for this? _

_I wondered if Alistair ever felt this, and at the mere thought of his name, the Dragon roared again, a deafening roar meant to kill. I was engulfed in flames…but I didn't care. _

It was like being hurled back into my body, like I had been flying and suddenly, I was ripped from the sky and cast back into my skin. Forcing my eyes open, I rolled off my bedroll, retching up my guts onto the grass; great heaves trying to push out of my poor throat.

"Layleth?"

"I'm…okay!" I managed to choke out in between heaves. I knew I was blatantly lying, but I had to preserve some sense of dignity in front of Alistair, despite my 'barbarian queen'ness' as he liked to call it, rearing its ugly head in the tavern earlier in the day. I choked back another sob when I felt his hands gently hold my hair back as more heaves brought up my stomach contents onto the grassy ground.

When I was sure I wasn't going to throw up all over him, I sat back, leaning my head against one of my tent poles, absently wiping my mouth.  
>"…What…was…I…<em>fuck<em>!"

"Come on, get up…come out to the fire with me, I'll make you some coffee." His arms gently wound themselves under my arms and he lifted me to my feet with nearly any effort at all, and after a few stumbling steps, we were seated by a log in front of the fire we had built earlier in the day.

I watched Alistair go about setting the kettle of water on the three-pronged cooking rack over the fire, letting my eyes follow the little twirls of steam that lifted from the mouth of the kettle. From that, I let my eyes wander, staring at Morrigan, her tent a bit set off from all of ours, to the two new additions to our merry, little band.  
>Leliana, a wispy, red-haired woman from the Lothering Chantry; she had been there at the bar-fight, and though I insisted we really didn't need her, it was like kicking a puppy.<p>

And her arrows have been useful thus far.

The other one was a bit more intimidating, but I did my best not to show it. A Qunari, hulking and huge like the rest of his race; he had the pale skin, the horns, he didn't wear the crimson war-paint, though I didn't question why. He was Sten.

I knew enough about Qunari not to question if that was his real name or not.

Alistair sat on the log, while I sat next to him, on the ground, leaning against the log. I felt like shit, my head hurt, my bones ached, and I was shaking from the exertion of the heaving. And on the horizon, I could see the sun beginning to breach the sky, so I had no chance to get any more sleep.

It would be one thing if I didn't sign up to be a Warden, but the issue is that I _did sign up_.

_Quit bitching, Layleth_.

"Aren't you going to tell me to watch my language…?" I asked after a moment, letting my head rest against Alistair's knee. I wanted to ask him why he was up in the first place, how had he'd been in my tent so fast, _I _had been barely aware of what was going on. But I had heard from enough people to_ never_ look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Would that make you feel better?"

"Maybe?"

"Layleth, watch your damn language."

"Double standard…" I moaned, shaking my head and sending myself into a spell of dizziness that quickly passed.

"So…I…am going to assume that what just occurred was one of those 'Warden dreams', care to elaborate before, I projectile vomit again...?"

"It's different for everyone, I'm so sorry it's this hard for you, Layleth, I really am. But…the Archdemon calls to us, at all times until it is destroyed, and then other things will call, but it's nothing compared to the Song. That's what the Song _is_; it's the Archdemon calling to us for help. The dreams are a side-effect of listening…"

I nodded; this made more sense than he knew. I had been letting pieces of the Song slip through all the time, often without my consent, and as much as I tried to force it away from me while I was awake, it was persistent.

Well, if listening causes this, this'll be a good reminder to focus harder.

"I…won't ever be normal again, will I?"

"…No, and here…" Alistair passed a mug to my hand, filled to the brim with hot, rich coffee. I took a deep swig of the bitter drink, letting it clear my mind a bit and set the trouble within my stomach at rest. It was simply, _astonishing_ to me the luck we had in Lothering: two more people to help in this…war?

War against the Blight, War against the Archdemon, War against…Father? The thought was troubling.

But we also got lucky with the Dwarven caravan.

Bodahn Feddic and his son, a young dwarf named Sandal.

If exchange for us protecting them for now, they agreed to take our supplies along in their carts. Tents, pots, pans, preserved foods…

"I'm…_frightened_…" I admitted after a moment of thought, letting the temporary clarity from the coffee sink in. Normally, these words would have never left my mouth, and had I been in any other company, I would've finished my coffee and moved onto the next topic, but I felt like I could talk to Alistair about this and he wouldn't…think less of me? Was that what I was afraid of? Being thought of as less than human?

Is that why father's betrayal stung so much? Because to him, it wasn't betraying his daughter anymore, it was betraying…a _thing_.  
>"So am I." Alistair agreed with me, taking a sip of his own coffee.<p>

"I'm sorry I'm such a…bad Warden."

"What? Who told you that you were a bad Warden?"

"Our situation, I guess…I mean, I can't even go to sleep without help, it seems."

"_Layleth_…" He sighed, as if I just said something quite foolish, "I know it doesn't feel like it, but you are not a bad Warden! You can fight, you can be diplomatic, you're honest, even brutally so, those are traits that all _good _Wardens have," He shook his head wistfully, giving me this 'give yourself more credit' stare that made my cheeks heat up like a Chantry initiate. Compliments had always been rare growing up, and even more so in the War College, and they still made me blush in embarrassment.

We were both quiet for a bit, letting the sounds of a camp at rest be our only music, before I felt the silence cloying and I pushed for more interaction.

"So…where do you we go first? We have so many things we have to do but no order. And everyone else is looking to us to know what the hell is going on."

"Well, we're at the edge of the Bannorn, if we head north, and stick to the roads, we can be at the Circle Tower in a day or less, and from there, we can travel east, stay in Denerim for a few days, head south and we can look for one of the wandering tribes of Elves, then head back this way through Lothering, head to Redcliffe, talk to the Arl and then head north from there and go see the dwarves."

"Spent time thinking that all out did you?"

"Just while I was waiting…"

"Waiting? For what?"

"…Layleth, you were talking in your sleep, I came to check on you and you were chucking up your guts."

"What does any of that have to do with waiting?"

"I had a similar experience when I first Joined." There were those capital letters again.

I craned my neck at an awkward angle to look up at the man who had been so kind to me in the short amount of time I had known him.  
>"I…thank you…" I finished lamely, hating how whenever I wanted to express any sort of emotion to this man, I always found myself tongue-tied, stumbling over my words like an ill-educated idiot.<p>

Anora would've been horrified to hear my lack of social grace.

_Anora_…

I turned away from Alistair, watching the flames leap and crack. Her name was a soft spot right now; I could only imagine what grief she must be suffering if she's even been told yet. Maker knows what's actually going on anymore.

I felt tears prick at the back of my eyes at the thought of Cailan's death, of the sweet boy murdered by those monsters, those things out there were the _real monsters_. Father should be hunting those things down, not Alistair and I. I struggled with the tears, hiding them as best I could, if Alistair saw me all glassy eyed, he'd wonder what was wrong. And then…things would just go from bad to worse…

But father left him to die! He knew that Cailan wouldn't be survive, he knew that he could create any story he wanted to give Anora and she'd believe it because despite her apparent intelligence and her political abilities, she was still daddy's girl and she listened to everything he said like it was the Maker's word.

But it was still tactical withdrawal, it had to be.

Father never liked Cailan, hated him even, but to murder Maric's only son…

Seems there were more monsters on this playing field than I had previously assumed.

* * *

><p>Author Notes Appended:<p>

The huge drastic change between how the Qunari look in DA:O and how they look in DA2 has always bothered me, so I changed that in this chapter, think of Sten as a DA2 Qunari.


	9. Chapter IX

Omg, holy maker almighty, I am so sorry to all my readers for the ungodly long wait! I had to rewrite this chapter literally, 6 times. Because I just couldn't get it the way I wanted it, and then I do get it the way I wanted it, and then Fanfiction freaks out and won't let me upload! /headdesk.  
>Thank you to everyone who had reviewed, alerted and fave'd this story, ESPECIALLY, since my little absence, it means so much to me, truly, it does. You guys have no idea; but enough with all that, here's the chapter.<p>

_Dragon Age and all associated revenues belong to Bioware._

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><p>I wanted to c<em>ry<em>…

I wanted to cry so bad at the cramping aches that shot through my body, but I held my tears back, it wasn't that they were particularly painful or anything such as that; it was that the pain _never_ let up and it was a most frustrating pain. The type that made it nearly impossible to move, much less actually fight. If something were to break out now, I'd be so dead, lying on my side, curled up in my bed, fighting back tears…

I stared at out the window of the inn, at the full moon hanging over the still waters of Lake Calenhad.

I _hated _my monthly cycle.

Ever since I had begun to bleed, I was told by mother that I was connected to the moon; that my cycles rose and fell with the tidings of the moon.

_Fuck you, moon_.

I listened to the sounds of the room, from Morrigan's light snoring, to Leliana's slight whistle when she exhaled in her sleep. Sten was completely quiet, which I had – in a way – expected, it wasn't like he was strange enough, no, of course not! I bet if I had rolled over, I would've seen him sleeping with his damn eyes open too! Why would he – a murderous Qunari who killed an _entire _family – be anything but _fucking unique_!

I brushed a hand across my forehead, trying to dispel my anger snap.

It was literally as quiet as can be, and I was still getting angry at all the damn noise!

_Holy Maker; Morrigan! Must you be so loud_?

Sighing, and giving up on any sort of sleep for the night, I pulled myself out of the bed I shared with Leliana, gathered my cloak tightly about me, and headed downstairs, attempting to make each step light and quiet; before plopping myself down at the bar, I put my head on my forearms, and groaned slightly, trying my hardest to simply will the cramps away. Why me? Why now? Why couldn't it be…Morrigan, or something? She was always a bitch anyways, so it's not like it'd be a great departure from the accepted norm.

I bit my lip and massaged my temples.

_Don't start with the insults…_

"Who…?" A small voice asked, as a little, old lady toddled out from her door, rubbing a bit of sleep from her eyes.  
>"I'm sorry…did I wake you, ma'am?" I worried, running a hand through my pillow-tousled hair, trying to make it look somewhat decent, now that I had company.<p>

"Oh, I just heard steps coming down from upstairs, you know; see if anyone needed anything…is something wrong, my girl?" She asked, walking up to stand behind the bar, her weathered face held a degree of worry for me that I truly appreciated. I can barely remember if mother ever looked at me like that…

"I…" I didn't quite want to say that my period was the reason for the disturbance, but it seemed that I had lost my capacity to lie when I hadn't gotten any sleep, "My…_cycle_…" I partially groaned, partially whispered, letting my chin rest on my forearms.

Suddenly, the little old lady was a whirl of motion, setting water to boil while tossing a bag of hastily chopped herbs into the water.  
>"This is a draught my grandmother used to make for us girls when we started bleedin'. It'll help…but…you aren't…a<em>ctive<em>, are 'ya sweetie?" She asked, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. I was slightly taken aback by the question, how very…_personal_. But I supposed that if she was willing to make a potion to help – especially at this ungodly hour – then I shouldn't lie or any such bullshit as that.

"Not currently, no. But, um…may I ask why that is important?"

"It can mess with your ability to conceive for a few days after you take it, just wanted to make sure you and that strapping, young man upstairs weren't trying for a child, my girl." I felt my cheeks color at what the old woman was implying, but kept my head down, trying to wipe the thought from my head.

Sex with Alistair? Was I even attracted to Alistair? I suppose, in a way, but a child? Oh _Maker no_. As if things weren't complicated enough? And _what the hell am I thinking_? Even sex, a relationship, _anything _like that would be a death-sentence.

Love was for people like Anora…not people like me; and sex…in this sort of situation?

It was a strange thought to dwell on, especially because I soon began to realize with growing horror that the idea wasn't completely hostile, so I didn't dwell.

The old woman – who I learned was Agatha – and I talked about minor things for a bit, while her herbal brew concocted itself. When the odor began to become quite pungent, she nodded that it was done, and emptying it into a mug, slid it across the bar to me.

"There 'ya go, sweetie. Should fix the cramps, slow the bleeding and give you a better mood for a few days," I thanked the woman profusely, took the mug and headed outside to sit on a rock by the shore, gently nursing the strong tasting brew.

If Dragon piss, Darkspawn blood and Demon snot had a taste…

I let the soothing, lake edge air wash over me, letting it clear my head while I sipped at the herbal potion, groaning at the taste, but even so, the cramps did begin to lessen after several, thick swigs of the pungent hot death.

I wasn't outside 15 minutes before I heard the inn's door move and the sound of footsteps on the sand behind me.  
>"Layleth?"<p>

"Yes, Leliana?"

The willowy woman lithely perched herself on the rock next to me, giving me a small smile, her nose wrinkling at the smell of the herbal drink.  
>"I just noticed you weren't in bed anymore, and when I peered out the window, I saw you out here. Is…everything alright?" She asked with a cautious friendliness. It was true, I knew very little Leliana, beyond that she was Orlesian, was up to date with current fashion, and could put an arrow through the eye of a bandit from 300 paces away, and that was without really even aiming…<p>

"Don't laugh, but…my cycle's started today for this month…"

"Oh, is that all?" she brightened somewhat, "Is that whatever-in-the-world-is-in-that-mug is for?"

"Sure is…the innkeeper's wife kindly brewed it up for me."

I hated how artificial this conversation sounded. I couldn't shake the feeling that she was holding something back, or that she was guilty of something, and as such, I hated the useless chatter.

"Leliana, do you have something to tell me?"

"Okay, so I didn't just wake up, I heard you get up the second you did, and I crept behind you along the stairs, and I heard what you were talking to Agatha about…" I rolled my eyes, she really had heard absolutely everything if she had even caught the woman's name.

"I just…grew a guilty conscious over it, I suppose. I wanted to tell you so I could get it off my chest that I heard the thing about…Alistair, as well."

I nodded shortly, I honestly didn't care what she'd heard, because I said nothing incriminating about my attraction to my fellow Warden, just that I wasn't trying to get pregnant by him.  
><em>Sex with Alistair<em>…

Why did that thought seem so many different things to me at once? Horrifying, exciting, boring, disgusting, wonderful…

I barely knew the man!

Not to mention my own…inexperience.

"It's alright, Leliana, but I appreciate that you would tell me regardless…" Draining the last of my mug, I stared up at the slowly lightening sky, the colours of dawn spilling over the horizon.

"The lady I grew up with used to have me do exercises when I started on my cycle, they held alleviate a bit of the cramping, and I usually go for a run every morning anyway, would you like to come with me?" She asked, gracefully dropping herself off the rock, onto the sandy beach below.

Setting the mug on the rock, I dropped down next to her and we both started on a brisk jog down the shoreline, the feeling of finally having some feminine company enough to increase my mood, and the herbal-dragon piss concoction enough to take away my womanly pains.

And, _Holy Maker_, am I ever tired...


	10. Chapter X

Had a sick day today, and wrote this! Yay! It's short and fluffy! And like always, thanks to everyone who reviews, alerts and fave's this story, it means so much to me, so seriously, thank you!

_Dragon Age and all associated revenues belong to Bioware_.

* * *

><p>I <em>hate <em>boats.

I hate them so much I could just scream, and yet; there I was, getting tossed about, in a boat, with _chunks _of ice, literally bashing themselves into the sides. I was cold, and I was _wet_. In a moment of incredibly bad luck _and_ balance, I toppled off the boat just trying to get into the stupid thing! And what's underneath boats?

_Freezing _water, apparently.

Any mood lift Agatha's herbal brew might've given me has officially vanished.

"You alright, Layleth? You look a tad bit pale…" Alistair commented next to me, knocking his knee against mine, sending sharp, icy needles racing through my leg as my cold, wet leather britches shifted over my skin, pinching. I clenched my teeth in order to keep myself from going berserk and shoving _him _into the water.

See how he likes it?

But of course, he thought this was great fun!

"I'm freezing…" I mumbled; pulling my cloak tighter around my shoulders with one hand, while the other hand worked in vain with the towel Leliana had loaned me. My hair was beyond hope, but with any luck, I could at least get most of the excess moisture off my leathers before they became stiff.

I wasn't having much luck…

"Well, I did offer you my hand for help,"

"Alistair…."

"But no! You have to be _so _tough!"

"Alistair…."

"I mean, _just forget _'the Great Layleth', ever accepting help from _anyone_; and besides, you…" I cut him off with a knuckle sharp punch to his arm.  
>"Would you shut up! I get it!" I growled, tossing the towel over my shoulder, and tucked myself tighter into my cloak, my mood thoroughly soured.<p>

It was true, he did offer to help me get into the stupid boat, but how…_embarrassing_! What, was I some weak, old lady that couldn't get in and out of a boat without fucking assistance!

Sighing, I glanced up at the sky, grinning in spite of myself. Well, which is more embarrassing? Allowing someone to help you into a boat, or falling off said boat into the icy water where it becomes _very _apparent to _everyone _involved that you can't swim worth shit.

I lead such a charmed life…

"That hurt…" I glanced over at Alistair, who, while baring an upset look on his face, was also rubbing at his arm where I'd punched him, "I think I may bruise, now don't you feel bad?" He admonished me, earning a roll of the eyes.

"Do you want me to get Morrigan to kiss it and make it all better?" I offered in my best 'baby-got-an-ouchie' voice.

"Oh holy Maker! Never mind, I'll survive!"

I hit the stone pillar…_hard_. And yet again, like every time I get tossed about like a ragdoll, I could feel a rib break clean in my side. I tried to scream, but the scream was caught in my throat, before it died completely when I landed on my back, the wind getting knocked out of me, leaving me struggling to breathe, tears and rage rushing over my face, as I tried to push myself back into fighting form.

Why? Why oh why, did Leliana have to _touch _everything?

If you see a glass vial with magical paper or whatever in a hidden cavity in a broken statue, you _don't touch it_!

The undead monstrosity screamed again, its ghostly blue eyes searching for its next victim. I could vaguely see Alistair evade the beast's great-sword, trying to get to me. He was next to me in an instant, Morrigan distracting the Revenant; he hefted me up despite my protesting side. "C'mon!" He shouted, dragging me out of the Chapel, away from the flailing beast. The last I saw of it, Morrigan's staff was planted in the opening of its helm, her strongest shock spell crackling over its rusted armor.

And with the resounding clang of the beast hitting the ground, its physical shell cooked and destroyed, the corridor grew silent once again.  
>I leaned heavily against Alistair, both of us working on catching our breath; while I also worked on calming my nerves. One second, it was just Leliana poking through some rubble, the next, she was down, bashed aside by the monsters shield, I swung twice, my daggers digging deep grooves into its side, and then…well, time for the daily allowance of broken bones.<p>

"So…do you want me to get Wynne to kiss it and make it all better?" He chuckled, the rich sound filling my ears.

"Oh _fuck you_…"

"Layleth! And too think; we're right outside a Chapel too!"

I hate everything.


	11. Chapter XI

Whoa! A new chapter? So soon? Believe me, I am as surprised as everyone else, trust me. Now, a word of warning, I must confess that I _suck_ at writing Fade-related stuff, so bear with me, okay? Of course, huge thanks to everyone who reads and supports this story, your continued reading and support means so much to me!

_Dragon Age and all associated revenues belong to Bioware_.

* * *

><p>"Layleth! My dear! How I've missed you so!" Anora embraced me tightly, her long slender arms wrapping themselves tightly about my neck.<br>"Oh, baby sister! You can't imagine how terrified father and I have been! And Cailan! Cailan has missed you so much! You have no idea, come, come, we'll have tea!" I was led by the hand, my eyes bleary and unseeing, but I didn't need to see, I didn't want too.

It was all over…

The sunlight was warm and inviting on my ashen and tired face, the air was sweet with the scent of strawberries and cream. Opening my eyes, I allowed myself to take in the visual feast laid out before me. A long table, laden with sprays of wildflowers, and the finest of fruits, breads, biscuits, teas, cakes!

_Leliana would've loved this_.

_Who's Leliana_?

Anora – glittering in the most beautiful spring-green dress I had ever seen her in – pulled a chair out for me, and pushed me into it, telling me to wait for the others before I touched anything. I did as I bade, lest she get all angry…  
>I <em>had <em>always ruined her tea-parties when we were younger.

Father entered the gardens…

"Hello, my dear…" He whispered, coming to stand behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders, gently massaging the aches of battle away from my shoulders.  
>"But…how?" I wondered, groaning and leaning my head back against daddy.<p>

"You won! Don't you remember, sweetie?" I shook my head that I didn't remember, it was like a fog in my mind, I couldn't remember, but it didn't matter, because daddy was here and he didn't hate me.

_He doesn't hate me anymore_…

"You defeated the Blight! All on your own! I always knew you could do it, sweetheart. I'm so sorry I ever doubted you…" He was kneeling by my chair, my hand clasped in his, a sign of asking for forgiveness.  
>Father never asked for forgiveness…<p>

Maybe he really had changed? Did I really fix everything like I said I would?

_Who did I say that too_?

_Did I say that to anyone_?

"But…but Anora said…Cailan?" My voice quivered with emotion, was the bright-eyed boy really okay? I needed to see…I needed to hear. No! Listening…what was it about the listening? I wasn't supposed to listen to something?

But…that was so long ago? Wasn't it? What wasn't I supposed to listen too?

Music? Screaming? War?

The Song?

What song?

My father smiled up at me, "He's fine, Layleth! Cailan survived! I always knew he would, it was a part of the plan!"

What plan? What went wrong? I was late? At the Tower, in the ruins, but…no! I wasn't late; was I? No…who was late? I was dying – because of the ogre – but, I didn't die. Who saved me?

Anora came bounding out from behind several thick bushes, pulling on yet someone else's wrist…

My breath left my body when Cailan came into sight, skin unscarred, eyes bright, smile wide and friendly. His hair was clean and styled in the signature warrior-braids he liked to keep it in, he needed a shave, but he usually did. He inclined his head to me, "Hello Layleth," His voice…oh, how I had missed that voice, the voice my dearest friend.

_No, not the dearest, not anymore_.

Shaking my head, I turned away from everyone, letting my eyes readjust. Who…? Not anymore? I have other friends now? Who?

What's going on?

Flashes of faces rushed through my mind, lightning quick, barely giving me enough time recognize them, but I did recognize them, though I didn't know how. In one image: golden eyes, in another: short red hair.

Who…?

More flashes and pain accompanied them, I groaned in discomfort, stumbling away from the chair and table, feeling weight settle on my thighs. _Weapons_.

Why would I need weapons?

A hulking, pale-skinned giant and a short, silver-haired mage.

And…and…dark blonde hair…and the warmest hazel eyes; like the most expensive of chocolates…

_Alistair_.

Where was Alistair?

"Where is he? Where are they? Alistair, Leliana, Morrigan, Sten, Wynne, my _friends_. Where are they? What happened to them, they should be here with us, with me." I stared at my family, no longer wishing for tea and cakes. Where were my friends? By Andraste, I'll move heaven and earth too…

"You don't have any friends, Layleth…remember?" Anora's once bubbly tone turned sour, and…so much more _like her_.

Another memory flashed, I was running, we were all running, running our hearts and lungs out. Alistair bashed through a door, an Abomination was waiting. He was whispering, I couldn't see anymore, and I felt my knees connect with the tiled floor, and then…I was here…

_The Fade_, I realized with sudden clarity. I was trapped in the Fade…

These weren't my family, these were…demons…

"No…_Anora_, I actually do now, whether you like it or not, you fucking bitch!" I screamed, grabbing one of the blades at my thigh, I half-turned and with every ounce of force I could put behind it, I hurled a dagger straight for her. The blade found its mark in the shocked demoness' chest, the pain that must've exploded from the wound caused her; briefly, to flicker, in between the guise she wore as my sister and what she really looked like. Cruel horns, violet flames, pale skin and achingly long talons.

Pulling my other knife, I prepared for the other two beings, which shed their paltry disguises; revealing their true forms. Black cloaked things, with glowing magenta eyes. Morrigan had described them as Shades, they were powerful and could easily kill a human, but they were beatable if you were smart.

The Shade that once masqueraded as Cailan came at me first, screaming in a ghostly tone, it swung one clawed hand at my face, but I dug my heels in and caught the blow with my forearm, and using the slight leverage I had, I forced the cloaked thing back, bashing it into the table. It snarled and hissed, and I roared when I felt claws rake down my exposed back.

Digging my knife into the Shade's throat, I spun; brutally ripping the blade out of the demon, I advanced on the other one, the one who…who had played me for a fool. And to think I couldn't tell the difference between my father and a demon.

I wonder if that says more about me, or him.

The creature drew itself up to its full height, and it breathed in, and at the same time, a part of me…left me…  
>I was being drawn towards the Shade, the very life slipping from my skin trying to get to the demon. I spared a glance at my hand, and watched, transfixed for only a moment as the skin blackened and withered slightly.<p>

Clenching my dagger with still-strong fingers, I rushed the Shade with a powerful rage-filled roar. I don't think it expected such a brash move, as I bashed heavily into the monster, sending both of us skittering to the ground, and with its spell interrupted, I felt a small amount of vitality surge through me. Gaining ground, I rushed it again, and leapt upon its prostrate bulk, slashing at its throat with a mighty scream. Its clawed hands caught my strike, trying to push me back, but I dug my knees into its diaphragm, or what I assumed was its diaphragm. I _would not _be deterred.

The blade inched closer to the Shade's throat, and with a final gasp of effort, I forced my weight down onto the dagger, the blade sliding through the creature's grip and into its neck.

Black, foul-smelling ichor bubbled out of the wound, the noxious fumes swarming over my senses, making my eyes water and bile to rise in the back of my throat. Tearing the blade free, I backed away from the demon, turning to glare at my dear,_ dear_ sister…

The bitch-demon was pulled up against one of the chairs, gasping for breath, my blade sticking viciously out from in between her breasts. Pinkish, fiery blood oozed from the wound, leaving scorching trails down her skin, but beside her haggard and half-dead appearance, the thing found the strength to actually smile and _laugh _at me.

"Oh, my dear…please…let me live. I'll do better this time, I swear. I'll make you so happy…just tell me what it is you want…" Her sinister, wispy voice asked me, violet eyes alighting brightly, like the corona of flames surrounding her head.

Snarling, I advanced on her and pressed a boot to the dagger, ready to drive it in for the killing blow…  
>The demoness laughed, "Do it then! I'm the only thing keeping the Song from overtaking you! Go ahead! Kill me!" She cackled wildly, and gritting my teeth, I pulled my foot back. What did she mean?<p>

"You're a Warden! You're all the same, constantly worrying about the Song that drives and digs at your sanity till you can't see straight! And look at where you are! This is the birthplace of the Song! Do you really believe you could survive it…?"

"I..."

"See…you can't! You don't have the faith in yourself! So…don't…stay here with me, Layleth. I could make you so happy. What is it? What do you _desire_…?" She tore the blade out of her, and stood, the wound pulling itself back together. With lithe steps, she approached me, her form melting into a perfect likeness of Cailan…naked.

Closing my eyes at the sheer perversity of it all, I shook as those long, delicate fingers gently teased the nape of my neck, sending sparks of pleasure racing through me.

"Hmm…perhaps not…" Peeking through my closed eyes, the creature's form shifted yet again, this time to mirror Duncan's body. Recoiling in horror, the demon laughed, "Oh, just the one…" I couldn't bring to tear my eyes away as her form shifted again too…too…Alistair…

It was convincing, convincing enough for doubt to form in my mind, but she had forgotten one minor detail to his body, the one detail that I saw often enough to know that it would never, ever disappear. The demon approached me and gently, its arms encircled me, its lips landing on mine.

I wanted to melt into the kiss so bad, such a close illusion it was, I wanted it to be real, even if for just a moment, but it wasn't, and it never would be; because this was fake, and Alistair and I had other issues to work out…first…

The being screamed when my remaining dagger pushed its way into her stomach, forcing the monster back into the edge of the table. Her form shifted and her clawed hands grasped at my arms, trying in vain to gain enough strength to push me off, but I had the advantage, and I twisted and pushed upwards, my blade aimed for the heart-strike.

"You..._stupid bitch_, you forgot one detail!" I screamed in her pained face, "He has a birthmark – right over his heart!" Pushing all my weight into the blade, it slid up and into the creature's heart.

All at once, she died. The corona of flames went out, the fiery sheen to her blood disappeared, the violet flames in her eyes died, her skin tightened and grew stone-tight, and her breath left her.

And suddenly, all the world crashed away and melted, and I wasn't in a garden anymore. There was no table, no sprays of flowers, no tea and cake and fruit. No accepting and forgiving fathers, no happy and joyous sisters, no…Cailan or Alistair. It was just me, and the twisted landscape of the Fade, with its sickly green skies above and the endless void beneath…

Closing my eyes, I could feel the notes to the Song begin to rise like a tidal wave in my ears, but I remembered how long I had been blocking it out. I wouldn't be deterred; I put the sound away from me, a feat far more impressive than I could've guessed. Where the bushes had been, where Anora had fetched Cailan now stood a doorway made out of purple light…

"I'm coming, everyone…" I whispered,


	12. Chapter XII

Happy one-day-late Valentine's Day everybody! This chapter surprisingly - or perhaps unsurprisingly - has nothing to do with 'Forever Alone' Day as I like to call it! Thanks to all the people who reviewed, fave'd and subscribed to this story, it's very inspiring to me, truly.

_Dragon Age and all associated revenues belong to Bioware._

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><p>"Where's Alistair?" Leliana asked, setting down the trays of food she held on the table before the group, the smell of freshly baked breads and grilled meats wafted about and I groaned at the sight of the feast, but Leliana was right, we were absent one person...<br>Morrigan scoffed indignantly, her nose buried in some book she'd found at the tower, an ancient leather-bound thing.

A leafless tree adorned the front cover…

She sighed, "He's upstairs," whilst carefully flipping one of the yellowed pages. They looked old enough that they may just fall to dust if she even so much as breathed on them. I wondered idly what it was exactly, but knew better than to ask.

Oh Maker, than she might try to explain something _magey _to me.

"I'll grab him, he's probably trying to worm his way out of that armor. If one person eats before we're all present, you get a dagger in the hand." I warned and started up the backstairs, trying to listen for the tell-tale signs of him trying to get undressed.

The man could bring down an ogre all on his own, but if he needs to get changed? Good luck!

Stepping into the room, it was strangely quiet and decidedly _not_ destroyed in his attempt to get out of his armor. I stopped short, watching Alistair's hunched over body, his hands in a basin, scrubbing incessantly.

"You okay?" I asked; taking a few cautionary steps closer, the only sound was the water being splashed about in the basin.

"I can't get the blood off…"

"What blood?" I demanded, taking the last few steps till I was next to him, pulling his hands from the red, cloudy water, I gasped. Long, deep, bloody scratches were marring his hands, his fingernails red and swollen, blood and bits of skin trapped beneath them.  
>"What the fuck are you doing?"<p>

He tore his hands away from me, stumbling backwards slightly, and shoved them back into the bloody water of the basin, his nails tearing at his flesh. Yanking him back from the basin, I grabbed it with my spare hand and cast the water into the fire, the relatively small amount of water steamed and sputtered the fire, but it roared higher still.

"Layleth! Damnit, I can't get the blood off…" He yelled, pushing me back somewhat, suddenly gathering himself up to his full height, I actually felt a seize of intimidation, but only for a moment. Two could play this game.

Grabbing his wrists, I pulled his hands up to eye-level.  
>"Alistair! There is none, only <em>yours<em>. That's _your _blood, your scratching caused that, alright….?"

His eyes seemed to focus and he actually seemed to _look _at the ragged skin on his palms, his knuckles. Confusion colored his features.

"But…there was…blood though. It was _hers_, the…the girl…" I sighed at his words, closing my eyes. I _knew _I should've handled that…

"Alistair, you need to listen to me, alright. She was _dying_, she was being turned into an _Abomination_, okay? The demons were already within her, the Litany couldn't help okay, she _begged _for mercy, and you gave it to her. It is _nothing _to be ashamed over…" He had to understand that, he couldn't honestly believe that he murdered her, right?

"But…she…she _screamed_…" His voice held restrained tears, and very deliberately, I pulled his head down to rest on my shoulder, his grip unbelievably tight on my hand, his whole body shook slightly from the nearly silent sobs.

I didn't begrudge him this display of emotion, I knew he needed it. Especially considering the whole Templar thing…  
>I couldn't imagine having to do <em>that<em>, whilst knowing that if things had worked out differently, you'd be doing _that _all the time.

"I can still see her eyes, and hear that scream. It's so loud, Layleth…it's even louder than _the song_…" He whispered, but I couldn't find my voice to say anything, so I merely nodded, letting him know that I could understand.  
>I was lying, I couldn't understand, and unless I ever had to do that, I probably never would. Part of me wished that I had been the one to deal with that whole situation, but the other part of me was glad that I didn't have too, because I could tell I would've been a much bigger mess…<p>

And he would've comforted me, just as I am doing for him now…

"_We look after our own_…" Duncan once said during the journey between Gwaren and Ostagar…

But speaking of messes…

"Alistair, c'mon, let me get a poultice on those hands." I ordered in my most authority-drill inspector-commander voice.

He nodded numbly, and sat down on the edge of the bed, his arms held out like a child's, his head down. I went about preparing the curative quickly. It was a basic enough thing for me to do, and I knew I had the option to be lazy and have the new mage, Wynne heal his hands, but if I was honest, I didn't fully trust her yet.

Fuck, I didn't fully trust _any _of the people downstairs yet…

But that was okay, at least for now. I didn't have to trust them, and if I was honest, they didn't necessarily have to trust me. I knew it was a very…_father_-like way to look at things, but…well…

I pushed the thoughts of father, Anora and Cailan that bubbled to the surface of my mind away, like they were as poisonous as the Song itself. I didn't have time for all that right now.

I wondered idly when I would ever feel I would have time for that…

Scraping the poultice onto several thick bandages, I gently began to wrap his hands, each bandage tight but with enough give in the palm to hold a weapon if he absolutely had too. I studied his face while I went about my work.  
>"I bet she'd thank you…if she could,"<p>

"Look, Layleth…I know you mean well, but please…just…don't."

I said nothing as I tied the bandages into small, tight little knots on the top of his hands and tucking them under the excess bandages, quick, functional and out of the way. I approved of my shoddy work as a healer.

We were both silent while I worked him out of his cuirass, undoing the leather-straps with a practiced hand, knowing every single notch for every single buckle. I helped him pull his shirt off, and I couldn't help but let my eyes wander to his chest – the birthmark that had given me clarity enough back in the Fade to overcome the demonic delusions was stark against his skin.

At least some things stay the same…


	13. Chapter XIII

To everyone who is/was sticking with this story, I am so sorry it's taken me so long to update the story at all. It's been one hell of a time to get my life back together over the last several weeks, but I've finally managed. But regardless, over a month for one chapter is pretty ridiculous and I'm so sorry.  
>But with all that stuff aside, thank you to everyone who has alerted, fave'd and reviewed this story at all since it's inception. ALSO! Huge thanks to those few who kept reading while I was on my sort of...forced hiatus.<p>

_Dragon Age and all associated revenues belong to Bioware. _

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><p>"Can't sleep?" Alistair's voice cut through the quiet night, the only sound beyond the nearly imperceptible rustle of the wind on the grassy hillside. I wondered idly how he had known that I wasn't asleep in my tent, but I had given up on figuring out his preternatural knowledge of my sleep cycles long ago.<p>

"I got some…" I admitted, watching the night sky, all beautiful and lit up on star-fire.

Cailan and I had done this when we were children. Or…well – when _I _was a child. We would lie down on the hills and watch the stars late into the night, watch the small twinkles and bursts of light so far away from us. It used to make me feel so small, so impossibly insignificant. I never really saw the beauty in it until I got much older. And then, in the War College, there was no time for such trivial things.

Alistair came to lie down beside me on the grass-covered slope, his body clad in only his breeches and undershirt. He placed his arms behind his head like mine, his eyes watching the sky.

"Wow…" He breathed,

"Gorgeous, isn't it?"

"I've never gone star-watching before. I read about it, in stupid romance novels, and such, but I always thought those were just the ramblings of beauty-obsessed writers, who could make the skin of an orange sound like a priceless work of art." He chuckled, and I turned my head to him, smiling wryly.

"Wait – 'romance novels'? Like the smutty ones?"

I knew I had hit something when his cheeks turned slightly red, and his jaw set in just _ever so _slightly.

"Oh wait! I know that one too! The one with the 'Antivan milk sandwich'?" I giggled, wondering what _exactly _he was reading that _particular _book for, before I decided I'd rather not know _that _whole story.

He sighed, somewhat disgustedly; "Oh Maker! I never wanted to know what that was too, ugh…filthy Antivans."

"Really? I think it sounds hot."

"Please tell me you're joking…"

"Of course I'm joking!" I smacked his elbow, giving him a mock-glare.

I let out a thin stream of air from between my lips, trying to connect the stars together with invisible lines. It was a thing that Cailan had taught me, so we could find shapes and such within the night sky. He said that the Chasind and Avvar tribes had religious rituals involving reading the stars, and I had always thought that an interesting concept.

Could people really see their fate plastered up in the night sky? It seemed like a pretty obvious place to put it. But maybe that was the trick? 'Hide in plain sight'? I wondered if the sky could show my fate, or the fate of my father.

I felt like I had been pushing those thoughts down for far too long, and now was as good a time as any to face them…right? Except of course for Alistair being _right there_.  
>And it was at that moment, that I never before felt such a strong urge to tell him. To tell him that I was a liar, and a cheat, and that I was the daughter of the enemy, and that there was a chance that…that maybe I wasn't so different from daddy.<p>

I could feel the want to rip apart my own lies beat against my chest, harder and more painful than my now pounding heart.

My fingers dug themselves into the rain-softened ground beneath me, gripping the moist soil with strong fingers, gathering clumps of earth into my palms to serve as a sort of cushion so my nails didn't puncture my palms.

Alistair's hand found mine.

"Layleth? You alright?" He asked, his hand feeling how mine was clenched into the ground, his eyes turned to me, and I turned to him, and I begged to every deity out there that he couldn't see the lies and half-truths in my gaze.

"I'm…fine…"

His eyes remained fixed on mine, while I mentally filed another lie into that ever-growing stack.

"Would you tell me if you weren't?" His grip tightened in a reassuring way.

"I…" We were interrupted by a light, brighter than anything I could've ever imagined streaking across the night sky, the sound of hissing metal, and the smell of white-hot flame filled the air. The ground shook when the light slammed into the earth, maybe two miles from where we lay. It was like the earth itself screamed in pain, as the tremors shook us to our core, and I rolled away, struggling to get to my feet, as the tremors lessened, and the dust cloud the meteor had kicked up came blowing by us, washing over the mound.

"Holy Maker!" Alistair shouted, pulling me towards him, and hunching over me, his back to the howling storm of dust and debris. Leaves and dirt swept by us, stinging our eyes and covering us with filth.

We stayed hunched down till the dust cleared for a moment, and I pushed my way up to my feet, crawling out from under Alistair, wiping the dust from my eyes.

"_What the fuck_?" I coughed, staring out into the horizon. What in Andraste's name _was _that?

Alistair's voice answered my question, "That was a meteor. The Chantry taught us about them, they said they were signs from Andraste herself…"

I knew from the instant the words left Alistair's mouth that they were false, and the priests hadn't known what they were talking about.

_Stars don't fall for men_.

"Go get Morrigan and Wynne; I'll go see what exactly it was."

"Layleth…"

"Alistair, go. Hurry before someone else gets there before us." Wiping more dust from my face, I started off down the hill; a sense of ill-omen enveloping me.


	14. Chapter XIV

This is a less action, more house-keeping chapter, but I've always sort of admired Wynne, and I wanted her chapter to be more mellow and such, so I hope everyone likes this one. As always, many thanks and blessings to all my beautiful readers who've fave'd, alerted and reviewed this story, your continued support makes my day, inspires me, and humbles me all at the same time, so thank you.

_Dragon Age and all associated revenues belong to Bioware_.

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><p>By the Maker, it really was a fallen star; beautiful, with veins of some glowing blue material coursing through it, it had been hot enough to crisp the ends of my hair when I had grown close to the thing.<br>Morrigan and Wynne had done a fine job of levitating it out of the crater it had blasted into the scorched earth and back to the campsite, where it was seen as _something _significant by all. Leliana and Alistair both agreed that it was some sort of sign from the Maker. Surprisingly, both Morrigan and Wynne agreed on their belief that it was some sort of freak-accident, and nothing more.

Sten had merely said it would be wise to keep the hunk of metal with us for the time being.

Florence absolutely hated going anywhere near it.

"It's small enough that you can carry it in your pack, Layleth, but _only _once it cools, alright. Touching it now would require you to get a new hand." Wynne warned me, coming to stand by my side, while I stood over the thing, tracing the light blue markings with my eyes.

"It's breathtaking."

"Yes, it is…strange and alien…but, yes…very breathtaking." She chuckled, "Sort of like first love…" I glanced up at the silver-haired mage, my brow furrowed for a moment. What an odd thing to say…

"Layleth, I'm glad we got this chance to talk; I actually had something I wanted to ask you."

"What is it, Wynne? You seem…I don't know…" I mentioned, lightly pulling yet _another _leaf from my hair. I really needed a wash…

"I wanted to ask you what you think it means to be a Grey Warden…"

"Well that's a loaded question."

"The ones worth answering typically are,"

"Well shit, Wynne – I don't really know. I mean...I wanted it, I really did. I wanted to be a Warden so bad, and then…when I became one, it was like the world turned itself upside down, so I have no idea how to really answer that. I was never told." I tried to answer as truthfully as I could, ignoring the slight glare at my use of profanity.

Alistair was the only one I'd put up with chiding me about my bad language. Yes, I know, I know…it's a bad habit. But I also know I'm not likely to kick it any time soon.

"Now, now…I didn't ask for facts or what the other Wardens believe, I wanted to know what _you _thought."

I chewed on that for a moment, allowing the question to fully process itself in my mind, before I just shot off an answer. Think before I speak…

"I would say it's about killing as many Darkspawn as possible, beheading that blasted Archdemon, and ending the Blight once and for all, like the heroes in fairytales. But…there's more to it than that now. Like with what happened with Alistair and the possessed mage girl at the Circle Tower…"

"Her name was Cirelle…" Wynne interjected, her eyes falling to the still hot hunk of metal, sitting in its little burrow to help disperse the heat faster.

My words stumbled over themselves into a jumbled mess of, "I…oh…"

"Did you know her very well?"

"Yes…she was my apprentice for as long as she'd been there…"

"I'm so sorry, Wynne."

"But…as you were saying, you were about to make a very astute point, I'm sure. Forgive me for interrupting." Her eyes found mine again, and a small smile found its way onto her face.

"I just…" I took a moment to recollect my thoughts, "I think I'm beginning to understand the gravity of the situation is all, and that…being a Warden doesn't mean killing every tainted creature I find, I can see now that it is…about sacrifice, in a way, and I'm beginning to see that this quest…may very well claim my life…" Wynne's hand rested itself on my shoulder in a comforting way, a gentle pressure meant to let me know I wasn't alone.

"It is wise of you to see this, Layleth…but you must not give into the despair..."

Chuckling somewhat, I realized just how little she truly knew me. "Believe me, Wynne; I _am not _the type to give in easy, and the next time that overgrown worm sees me, he'll know he was _in a fight_."

"Then I am more the glad to hear it," She beamed, before her hand reached up, and plucked a small twig from the tangled jungle that was now my hair.

"My girl…"

"I know, I know, I'm filthy."

Another small chuckle came from the woman, "Well, at least you realize it. Now, it's practically morning anyway, go wash up and I'll start the process of getting this motley band up and ready to go."

I was several steps away before I turned back, "I don't what I'm thanking you for because you asked me a question but regardless…thank you, Wynne."

"And thank you, Layleth for answering my question."

"Was it the answer you wanted?"

"If I didn't want whatever answer may come, I shouldn't have asked the question…" And with polite incline of her head, she walked away.

That's some good wisdom there. If you didn't want the answer, why ask the question. I really need to apply that to my life…

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><p>"Someone pass the mushrooms," I asked around a mouthful of the delicious stew Leliana had prepared for everyone for lunch.<p>

It was a good day, bright and sunny, no Darkspawn so far, and Leliana had taken it upon herself to become head cook during travel when Alistair yet again attempted breakfast.

How the man can fuck up bread, I'll never know.

"Leliana, this is just fabulous, what is it?" Wynne asked, eating another spoonful of the bone-warming meal.  
>"Oh this, it's just <em>Chicken Bouillabaisse<em>, but I adapted the recipe to fit with the wild game hens that Morrigan caught this morning with that trap she set a few days ago. Also, I wasn't able to give it a lot of spice like normal because we don't have any saffron threads, and besides, saffron is just _so expensive _nowadays, so instead I used…"

"Leliana! I have no idea what you just said, but it's good." Alistair jumped in, chuckling.

I said nothing, merely continued enjoying my lunch while Alistair and Leliana bickered back and forth over the 'correct' way to cook chicken.

Or game hen, or whatever.

I can't cook, but my saving grace is that I _know _I can't cook, a self-awareness that Alistair is sorely lacking in.

"A small, wretch of a man approaches…" Sten's voice cut through any levity our meal may have had. Glancing over at him, he wasn't staring at any of us, merely into his bowl, cutting apart one of his pieces of chicken with the edge of his spoon. How he saw anyone was beyond me, but I didn't need the headache of questioning a Qunari.

Standing, I peered down the road we were sort of camped out next to, and surely enough, a small, frail man was coming our way, driving an Ox cart.

Handing my bowl over to the person closest to me, who happened to be Morrigan, I drew my knives, and twirled them inwards so the flat of each blade rested against one of my wrists, striding down a bit towards the man, I put on my best friendly face.

"Oi! Are ye' one of the Grey Wardens?" The man called before I had a chance to hail him.

"What a dangerous question to ask strangers, good sir." I called back politely, watching him closely. If he so much as made a move to pull a crossbow, or a spell or anything, this dagger was going straight for his neck.

"Aye, Aye, I'm sorry ma'am, it's just…I heard that two Grey Wardens were headed this way, and that they might've known Duncan, but sorry to disturb 'ye. They must've passed by this way already…" I turned my body partially to look at Alistair, who's eyes met mine and he nodded a bit.

"No sir…they didn't…"

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><p>Author's Notes Appended: Chicken Bouillabaisse is a french chicken stew with a garlicky herb sauce (or rouille as the french say it) on top of it. I've had several versions of it, and the best that I've ever had was made by one of my Provençal friends, and she used Saffron in the sauce. Hence Leliana's comment about the Saffron and said 'missing spice'. Just a little culinary fun-fact for everyone, I guess. XD<p> 


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